HEREFORD 


OBIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS 


HEREFORD 

A   STORY    BY 

M.  DUNTON  SPARROW 

Author  of  "Eugene,"  and  the  songs  "By  Quiet 

Waters,"  "On  Wings  of  Faith,"  "Where 

Blooms  the  Jasmine  Flower"  etc. 


BOSTON 

RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 
1910 


Copyright  1910  by  Richard  G.  Badger 


All  Rights  Reserved 


THE  QORHAM  PRESS,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A 


Lovingly  dedicated  to 

The  Dear  Ones 

who  journeyed  with  me 

to  the  Southern  Mountains 


2132816 


CONTENTS 

Introduction    7 

Boyhood  Days 9 

In  the  Heart  of  the  Blue  Ridge 25 

Sally  Burns 49 

Meeting  of  Hereford  and  Sam 55 

Closing  of  the  Cabin  School 67 

Retrospection 85 

Mrs.  Houtman  and  the  Thieving  Dog.  .  93 

Hereford's  Mother  in  Richmond in 

Judy  and  Tessina  Clash 117 

Meeting  of  the  Adventists 135 

Judy  Gives  "Sage"  Advice 153 

Judy's  Presentiment,  Was  it  a  Ghost?.  .  159 

Sam's  Transgression 165 

Sad  Tidings 179 

Tessina  Goes  to  School .  1 8 1 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Peaceful  Southern  Scene. .  .Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Nearby  Mammy  was  Washing 26 

He  Had  Now  Passed  Fineland 30 

In  the  Mountain  Wagon 60 

"But  Yo'  Mussn't  Call  Me  Niggah" . .  116 


INTRODUCTION 

COME  ye,  who  love  the  murmuring 
forests,  to  the  land  of  the  Galax  1 
To  the  land  of  whispering  pines 
and  of  mountain  streams  whose 
sources  are  among  the  innumer- 
able majestic  peaks  which  seem  to  vie  with 
one  another  in  glory,  and  in  grandeur.     To 
the  land  where  the  soft  winds  blow  and  the 
sunbeams  dance  in  glee. 

Then  listen,  while  I  tell  you:  not  of  the 
Red  man,  nor  the  Black,  but  of  men  of  our 
own  blood,  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  who  dwell 
in  an  undeveloped  and  untutored  state  amidst 
nature's  primeval  beauties. 

When  you  have  heard  my  story,  perchance 
you  may  wish  for  these  neglected  ones,  the 
dawn  of  a  brighter  morrow. 

THE  AUTHOR 


HEREFORD 


Boyhood  Days 

IT  was  April,  and  brightly  fell  the  sun- 
shine over  the  little  village  of  Sun- 
ledge,  a  small  town  not  many  miles 
from  the  busy  city  of  Scranton,  Penn- 
sylvania. 

The  hush  of  the  Sabbath  morning  was 
broken  only  by  the  sound  of  the  church  bells, 
which  floated  in  mellow  sweetness  on  the 
balmy  air. 

The  farmer  folk  were  already  driving  in 
from  their  quiet  country  homes.  They  were 
early,  as  people  generally  are  who  have  the 
longest  distance  to  go,  but  the  fact  that  they 
were  early  gave  them  a  little  more  time  for 
gossip,  and  news  was  an  important  part  of 
the  day's  enjoyment.  I  say  this  not  in  a  spirit 
of  sarcasm,  for  who  with  meagre  means  of 
procuring  entertainment,  would  not  do  the 
same? 

The  congregation  which  gathered  at  the 
little  Presbyterian  church  on  that  particular 
day  was  larger  than  usual,  for  there  was  to 
be  a  christening. 

9 


HEREFORD 

Among  numerous  other  infants  to  be  chris- 
tened was  the  son  of  Peter  Houtman,  the  vil- 
lage grocer.  He  had  settled  upon  Hereford 
for  his  child's  name,  so  the  name  of  Hereford 
Houtman  was  duly  enrolled  among  the  rest, 
who  helped  on  that  day  to  swell  the  numbers 
of  that  little  church.  He  was  a  lusty  infant 
and  as  years  went  by  he  developed  into  a  rug- 
ged boy  in  spite  of  measles,  mumps,  and  all 
the  many  ills  to  which  little  folks  are  heirs. 

Peter  Houtman's  home  was  an  unpreten- 
tious story-and-a-half  dwelling,  with  plenty 
of  garden  land  at  the  rear.  He  owned  besides 
a  thrifty  flock  of  hens,  a  cow,  and  a  horse. 

At  an  early  age  Hereford,  who  gradually 
took  upon  himself  various  boyish  tasks,  might 
often  have  been  seen  riding  the  horse  to 
brook,  not  gaily  caparisoned,  but  without  sad- 
dle, and  often  without  shoes. 

This  brook  or  clear  spring  of  water  was  a 
half-mile  distant,  and  as  the  horse  was  very 
fond  of  that  water,  and  Hereford  was  very 
fond  of  the  ride,  it  came  to  pass  that  the  trips 
were  frequent. 

When  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age  Hereford 
had  the  misfortune  to  be  separated  from  his 
particular  boyhood  friend  and  chum,  James 
10 


BOYHOOD  DAYS 

Gray,  the  son  of  the  village  physician.  These 
boys  had  been  in  the  same  class  at  school  and 
had  played  together  whenever  they  could  find 
time.  Later,  however,  the  doctor  had  a  bet- 
ter field  for  practice  offered  him  in  New  York 
and  so  changed  his  place  of  residence.  Here- 
ford sadly  missed  his  former  companion.  He 
did  not  associate  very  much  with  the  other 
boys.  They  all  seemed  to  be  either  too  young, 
or  too  old,  so  he  found  himself  depending 
more  and  more  upon  the  society  of  his  sister, 
who  was  nine  years  older  than  himself,  but  al- 
ways most  thoroughly  companionable.  She 
was  fond  of  music  and  owned  an  organ,  on 
which  she  had  taken  lessons  and  had  become 
quite  proficient  as  a  performer.  She  also  gave 
her  brother  some  musical  instruction,  which 
helped  to  fill  his  spare  time,  although  he  show- 
ed no  special  talent  in  that  direction. 

Peter  Houtman  kept  a  country  store,  in 
which  could  be  found  groceries  and  a  large 
variety  of  useful  articles.  No  order-wagon 
was  maintained,  for  Sunledge  was  a  small 
place  and  most  of  the  people  preferred  to  in- 
spect their  purchases  at  the  store  and  carry 
them  home  with  them.  Goods  were  deliver- 
ed, however,  upon  request.  Farmers  drove  in 
ii 


HEREFORD 

from  outlying  districts,  and  other  customers 
came  from  the  mining-camps ;  these  also  took 
home  their  purchases.  On  account  of  this, 
Peter  was  able  to  conduct  his  store  with  the 
help  of  one  man  and  such  assistance  as  his 
son  could  give.  So  the  youthful  Hereford 
was  kept  busy,  for  in  addition  to  the  store 
tasks  there  was  work  about  the  place,  for  the 
garden,  his  "little  Dutch  garden,"  forever 
needed  attention,  as  the  weeds  were  incessant- 
ly growing. 

Thus  the  days  and  months  passed  and  their 
simple  round  of  life  was  filled  with  daily  du- 
ties. So  it  might  have  continued  in  unbroken 
monotony  had  it  not  been  for  a  singular  coin- 
cidence. A  missionary  traveling  on  horseback 
through  Sunledge  was  overtaken  by  a  severe 
storm  and  he  asked  for  shelter  at  the  home  of 
Peter  Houtman. 

He  introduced  himself  as  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Griswold.  He  was  invited  in,  and  after  the 
head  of  the  household  had  counselled  with 
his  wife  and  daughter  Agnes,  the  stranger's 
sleeping-room  was  made  ready  by  them.  The 
unannounced  guest  arrived  as  the  family  was 
about  to  sit  down  to  tea,  so  he  was  invited  to 
join  them  at  the  table.  Mr.  Griswold  was 

12 


BOYHOOD  DAYS 

tall  and  spare.  He  stood  erect,  with  his  head 
slightly  thrown  back,  which  gave  him  some- 
what of  a  haughty  air,  but  his  genial  tones 
were  reassuring  and  made  them  feel  quite  at 
their  ease.  He  had  a  fair  complexion  and  large 
blue  eyes,  which  could  express  either  mirth  or 
pathos.  He  possessed  a  fund  of  amusing 
stories,  which  kept  them  well  entertained. 
After  tea  was  over  the  men  folks  drew  around 
the  open  grate,  which  was  all  aglow  with  a 
blazing  fire  of  large  coals.  Mr.  Houtman 
and  his  guest  prepared  for  a  quiet  smoke. 
Meanwhile  the  mother  and  Agnes  cleared 
away  the  supper  dishes.  After  the  work  was 
all  finished  they,  too,  joined  the  circle  by  the 
fireside.  Mrs.  Houtman  was  slight  in  build, 
but  she  possessed  great  powers  of  endurance, 
being  a  type  that  is  generally  called  wiry. 
Her  bright  and  amusing  manner  made  her  a 
general  favorite  among  her  friends  and  neigh- 
bors. She  was  somewhat  awed,  however,  by 
the  presence  of  this  stranger  and  had  thus  far 
left  his  entertainment  chiefly  to  her  husband. 
After  a  little  commonplace  conversation  the 
minister  drifted  into  reminiscences  of  his  own 
life. 

"I  was  born  and  reared,"  he  said,  "in  a 

13 

s 


HEREFORD 

small  town  in  Leslie  County,  Kentucky,  in  the 
southeastern  part  of  the  state,  near  the  Cum- 
berland mountains,  which  separate  Kentucky 
from  Virginia." 

"I've  heard  that's  a  great  mountain  re- 
gion," said  Mr.  Houtman,  absently. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  other,  "this  section 
covers  about  one-tenth  part  of  the  state; 
stretching  westward,  however,  the  country 
is  rolling  and  the  soil  fertile.  On  reaching 
central  Kentucky  we  find  a  broad  plateau  cov- 
ered with  grass;  blue  grass,  it  is  called." 

"Oh,  I've  read  about  that,"  interrupted 
Hereford.  "What  is  it  really  like?" 

"Well,  it  is  not  blue,  as  the  name  sug- 
gests," replied  the  narrator.  "But  there  is  an 
underlying  strata  of  blue  limestone  in  the 
soil  which  gives  it  its  luxuriant  growth.  This 
section  is  one  of  the  finest  agricultural  regions 
in  America.  Herds  of  fine  cattle  feed  upon 
this  grass  and  herds  of  swine  roam  through 
the  woodlands." 

"I've  heard  of  Kentucky  butter,"  chimed 
in  Mrs.  Houtman,  who  had  been  trying  to 
think  of  some  remark  to  offer,  and  at  this 
point  she  doubtless  thought  that  that  was  her 
chance,  and  she'd  let  this  man  know  that  she 


BOYHOOD  DAYS 

had  a  few  ideas  at  least. 

"Yes,"  said  Agnes,  supplementing  her 
mother's  remark,  "I've  been  told  that  hotels 
and  boarding-houses  in  the  South  depend 
largely  upon  Kentucky  dairies  for  their  sup- 

ply." 

"That's  right,"  responded  the  minister,  as 
he  proceeded  with  his  narrative.  "The  people 
of  this  section,  before  the  Civil  War,  ap- 
proached the  ideal  life  more  fully,  perhaps, 
than  did  those  in  almost  any  other  part  of 
our  country.  Being  blessed  with  a  most  fav- 
orable climate  and  a  rich  and  productive  soil, 
peace  and  plenty  reigned.  The  spirit  of  con- 
tentment was  in  the  air,  as  the  people  dwelt 
with  nature  throughout  the  balmy  days, 
whose  eventides  were  made  merry  by  the 
Negroes  as  they  gathered  to  sing  and  dance 
to  the  rhythmical  clapping  of  their  hands,  or 
the  spirited  music  of  the  banjo.  Thus  passed 
those  sweet  anti-bellum  days  so  dear  to  the 
hearts  of  old  Kentuckians." 

"I  have  rea'd  of  Daniel  Boone  and  his  es- 
cape from  the  Indians,"  said  Hereford. 

"Ah,  yes!"  observed  Mr.  Griswold,  "he 
went  to  Kentucky,  I  think,  in  1769,  when  the 
country  was  inhabited  by  tribes  of  warlike  In- 
15 


HEREFORD 

dians  and  very  little  indeed  was  known  about 
it  until  that  time.  My  grandfather  emigrated 
from  Virginia  and  many  were  the  blood-curd- 
ling tales  he  related  of  his  first  years  on  the 
frontier.  I  was  born  a  year  after  the  close 
of  the  Civil  War.  My  earliest  recollections 
are  full  of  memories  of  the  political  conten- 
tions which  divided  into  bitter  factions  so 
many  of  the  people  of  Kentucky  and  which 
hung  like  a  pall  upon  all  social  life.  Friends 
and  relatives  became  estranged  from  one  an- 
other and  met  without  speaking;  one  having 
fought,  perhaps,  for  the  Union,  and  the  other 
for  the  Confederate  side.  The  Church,  too, 
suffered  from  the  general  condition  of  so- 
ciety." 

''We  never  knew,"  said  Mrs.  Houtman, 
"that  you  had  such  a  time  among  yourselves 
as  that.  I  guess  we  ain't  always  been  as  char- 
itable as  we  ought  to  have  been,  law  sakes !" 

"That  is  because  you  did  not  hear  both 
sides  of  the  story,"  rejoined  the  minister,  smil- 
ing, "for  I  am  sure  it  was  not  from  any  lack 
of  kindness  of  heart.  Well,"  he  continued, 
"my  father  was  a  clergyman.  He  has  told 
us  that  he  often  expostulated  with  his  people, 
and  tried  to  bring  them  together  in  concord. 
16 


BOYHOOD  DAYS 

But  his  attempts  were  fruitless,  for  they 
would  not  be  reconciled.  Many  were  the  be- 
reaved ones  who  sat  alone  in  their  sorrow. 
Many  were  the  ones  once  rich,  who  were 
made  poor  and  desolate  by  the  war.  Many 
cabins  stood  in  loneliness,  for  the  negroes  had 
fled  to  the  towns,  hardly  knowing  which  way 
to  turn.  Confusion  was  everywhere,  and  no 
tongue  can  tell  of  the  suffering  that  ensued; 
yet  the  majority  of  the  people  in  Kentucky 
wished  to  remain  neutral,  and  finally  did 
maintain  loyalty  to  the  Union,  although  many 
fought  on  the  Confederate  side." 

"It  was  a  sorry  day  for  us,  also,"  added 
Mr.  Houtman,  reflectively,  as  he  laid  his  pipe 
aside  and  vigorously  poked  the  fire. 

"True,"  rejoined  the  minister,  "your  sor- 
row occasioned  by  the  loss  of  kindred  equal- 
led ours,  but,  in  addition  to  this  grief,  we  lost 
our  property  by  the  emancipation  of  the 
slaves,  which  you  must  remember  was  the  bulk 
of  the  Southerner's  fortune." 

"It  was  hard,  indeed,"  answered  Mr. 
Houtman,  "but  the  awakened  public  had 
come  to  feel  that  slavery  must  go  by  one  way 
or  another." 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "a  climax  would 
17 


HEREFORD 

have  been  reached  sooner  or  later,  for  the 
very  reason  that  this  is  a  world  of  progress. 
When  I  grew  older,"  continued  Mr.  Gris- 
wold,  "I  became  interested  in  the  mountain- 
eers. These  men  had  been  non-slaveholders, 
so  they  had  no  vital  interest  in  the  Southern 
cause,  consequently  the  subject  was  not  up- 
permost in  their  minds,  as  it  was  in  the  minds 
of  society  in  general.  After  being  so  long 
amidst  great  dissension  it  rested  me  to  look 
upon  their  peaceful  faces  as  they  came  into 
town  in  their  mountain  wagons  or  on  horse  or 
mule  back  with  their  saddle  bags  laden  with 
produce,  which  they  had  brought  to  barter. 
I  often  found  myself  watching  for  these  men 
with  their  yellow  leggins  the  color  of  the  mud 
which  had  bespattered  them  during  their  long 
ride.  At  the  time  when  I  decided  to  follow 
my  father's  calling,  I  also  decided  to  work 
for  these  neglected  people,  at  least  for  awhile. 
This  I  did  for  about  three  years.  Then  I 
came  North  as  far  as  Pennsylvania.  At  the 
present  time  I  have  charge  of  a  Presbyterian 
mission  about  thirty  miles  from  here." 

Every  interval  of  silence  which  occurred 
during  the  conversation  was  punctuated  with 
the  "tick-tock"  of  the  old  clock  which  stood 


BOYHOOD  DAYS 

in  the  corner  of  the  room  and  ticked  away  the 
fleeting  hours.  The  rain  beat  upon  the  win- 
dows, while  the  wind  whistled  a  mournful 
monotone,  which  proved  soothing  in  its  effect 
upon  Mr.  Houtman's  nerves,  for  he  began  to 
doze.  The  minister  observing  this,  soon 
pleaded  fatigue  and  was  shown  to  his  room. 

The  storm  lasted  three  days,  developing 
into  one  of  those  cold,  raw,  drizzling  rains, 
which  we  sometimes  experience  in  November. 

The  Houtmans  did  their  best  to  entertain 
their  guest,  and  insisted  that  he  should  remain 
with  them  until  the  weather  cleared.  He 
seemed  very  willing  to  accept  their  hospitality 
and  they  found  him  very  congenial. 

Peter  Houtman  felt  that  he  was  entertain- 
ing a  distinguished  visitor.  This  was  made 
obvious  by  the  air  of  importance  which  he  at 
times  assumed.  He  thought,  too,  that  it 
would  be  something  new  to  talk  over  at  the 
store,  and  it  would  make  him  quite  a  lion 
among  his  townsmen. 

Perhaps  this  was  a  touch  of  vanity  in  Peter, 
but  in  spite  of  such  a  conclusion  he  was  in  fact 
a  man  of  strong  character.  It  manifested  it- 
self in  his  firm  and  energetic  step;  it  could  also 
be  traced  in  his  face.  In  short,  Peter  was  a 
19 


HEREFORD 

solid  man,  standing  for  all  that  was  good,  and 
he  was  much  respected  by  the  people. 

Mr.  Griswold  also  deeply  interested  Here- 
ford. His  magnetism  seemed  to  attract  him. 
His  great  soulful  eyes  reached  his  spirit  and 
inspired  new  thoughts,  and  life  appeared  all 
at  once  to  broaden  to  his  view.  He  question- 
ed Hereford  later  with  regard  to  his  plans  in 
life;  was  he  settled  in  mind  and  contented 
with  his  work? 

To  which  the  other  replied: 

"I  have  had  dreams  of  a  life  in  a  larger 
place,  where  I  could  advance.  I  am  not  quite 
satisfied  with  what  I  am  doing  here,  but  there 
seems  to  be  no  way  for  me  to  make  a  change." 

Mr.  Griswold  was  very  much  pleased  with 
his  new  friend's  personality,  and  felt  that  it 
was  a  pity  that  he  could  not  have  a  chance  to 
try  the  world  for  which  he  longed.  After  due 
consideration  the  minister  tried  to  persuade 
Hereford's  parents  to  arrange  to  send  their 
son  away  to  a  boys'  school,  where  he  could  im- 
prove his  education. 

The  father  at  first  demurred,  but  the 
mother  and  sister  seemed  inclined  to  favor  the 
plan.  Finally  it  was  settled  that  he  should  go 

to school  in  Scranton. 

20 


BOYHOOD  DAYS 

In  less  than  two  weeks  Hereford  was 
ready.  He  was  twenty  years  old  at  this  time, 
tall  and  strongly  built.  His  dark  eyes  and 
brown  hair  blended  well  with  his  clear  olive 
complexion,  which  was  heightened  by  a  deep, 
rich  color.  He  resembled,  perhaps,  some  old 
Dutch  ancestor  on  his  father's  side  more  than 
his  own  parents.  He  had  never  been  away 
from  home,  and  scarcely  realized  what  the 
great  world  was  beyond  his  horizon  line. 

As  before  stated,  he  had  often  felt  restless, 
and,  as  he  grew  older,  became  even  dissatis- 
fied with  his  work.  He  loved  his  home,  still 
he  longed  for  change. 

Much  of  the  world's  sorrow  comes  from 
the  spirit  of  discontent.  For  instance,  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  Mary  Stuart, 
Queen  of  Scots,  was  happily  situated  while 
in  France,  being  beloved  and  caressed  by  the 
people,  but  she  needs  must  go  to  Scotland, 
and,  in  consequence,  she  forfeited  her  life. 
Many  a  man  has  become  discontented  with  his 
humble  home  and  built  him  a  mansion  at  an 
outlay  beyond  what  his  income  would  allow. 
Then  after  a  few  reverses  in  business,  came 
ruin,  and  the  regret  of  a  lifetime. 

Then  again,  there  is  much  to  be  said  on  the 

21 


HEREFORD 

other  side.  Disaster  does  not  always  follow 
change.  Sometimes  it  is  well  to  migrate; 
health  may  demand  it,  often  business,  social 
and  educational  advantages  require  it.  So 
Hereford's  motive  was  perfectly  justifiable, 
as  he  dreamed  of  preparing  for  work  more 
congenial  to  his  taste.  He  had  read  good, 
strong  books  with  Agnes,  and  she  had  always 
encouraged  high  aspirations.  Not  only  was 
the  change  enjoyable,  but  also  the  new 
thoughts  which  attended  it  by  his  coming  in 
contact  with  greater  minds  than  his. 

Later  it  was  also  through  the  influence  of 
Mr.  Griswold  that  Hereford  had  the  advan- 
tage of  a  two  years  course  at  a  university  in 
the  same  city. 

During  the  minister's  visit  at  the  Hout- 
man's  he  had  told  them  so  much  about  the 
mountaineers  and  his  mission  work,  that 
Hereford  became  deeply  interested  in  the  sub- 
ject and  resolved  to  begin  his  career  by  open- 
ing a  school  in  their  isolated  section  of  the 
country,  when  he  had  finished  his  studies. 

After  a  year  of  close  application  at  the  pre- 
paratory school  he  entered  the  university  on 
special  lines.  When  he  had  at  last  completed 
the  course  he  returned  to  Sunledge  and  re- 
22 


BOYHOOD  DAYS 

sumed  for  a  while  his  former  work. 

The  memory  of  that  hour  when  he  reached 
home  will  ever  remain  with  him  like  a  sweet 
dream.  He  accomplished  the  work  which  he 
had  undertaken  and  now  felt  that  he  was  en- 
titled to  a  long  home  vacation. 

It  was  a  beautiful  June  day  when  he  ar- 
rived and  about  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
The  sun  struck  aslant  across  the  hills,  the  air 
was  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  the  fields. 
The  canary  was  singing  in  the  porch,  the  hens 
must  have  been  disturbed  by  something,  for 
they  were  cackling,  while  from  the  flaming 
rose  bushes  two  kittens  emerged  in  play. 

It  was  home,  and  it  seemed  the  dearest  spot 
on  earth  to  Hereford  as  he  was  greeted  by  his 
father,  mother  and  sister  Agnes. 

This  sister's  face  resembled  his  somewhat 
in  general  contour,  but  her  hair  was  black  and 
her  eyes  deep  blue.  Proudly  she  stood  there, 
strong,  healthy  and  happy.  Hereford  was 
always  proud  of  Agnes,  but  more  so  now  than 
ever  before  did  she  appear  to  him  a  type  of 
true  and  beautiful  womanhood,  and  she  gave 
him  fresh  inspiration  to  find  his  life's  work. 


II 

In  the  Heart  of  the  Blue  Ridge 

IN  October,  eighteen  hundred  and  nine- 
ty-one, Hereford  prepared  to  make  a 
journey  to  the  Blue  Ridge.     He  had 
interested  a  few  wealthy  and  benevo- 
lent persons  in  his  plans,  and  in  due 
time    a    sum   of    four   hundred   dollars   was 
pledged  by  them  for  his  support  for  a  year. 

These  men  wished  him  to  live  among  the 
mountain  people,  learn  their  real  needs,  and 
endeavor  to  gain  their  cooperation  in  estab- 
lishing a  little  school  in  their  midst. 

The  plan  was  wholly  independent  of  church 
work,  so  he  was  not  bound  to  any  line  of 
thought  or  action.  Good  judgment  alone 
should  be  his  guide. 

He  took  the  afternoon  train  for  Spartan- 
burg,  S.  C.,  a  point  where  a  change  of  cars 
was  to  be  made  for  the  mountain  region.  On 
arriving  the  following  morning  he  found  that 
he  would  be  obliged  to  wait  for  train  connec- 
tions, so  he  decided  to  purchase  his  horse,  sad- 
dle and  saddle  bags  at  that  place,  all  of  which 

25 


HEREFORD 

he  very  soon  obtained.  He  procured  fodder 
for  the  horse,  and  some  lunch  for  himself, 
and  packed  it  with  his  luggage  in  the  saddle 
bags;  then  started  on  his  way,  striking  out  in 
a  northwesterly  direction.  The  air  was  cool 
and  invigorating,  but  the  day  grew  warm  as 
the  sun  mounted  higher.  It  was  one  of  those 
delightful  October  days  when  nature  is  so  al- 
luring. 

He  was  soon  out  upon  the  lonely  highway, 
passing  only  an  occasional  cabin,  where  on  the 
stoop  played  little  woolly-headed  colored 
children.  Near  by  "Mammy"  was  washing 
in  the  open  air.  Her  kettles  were  suspended 
over  a  smoky  wood  fire.  Some  of  the  clothes 
were  already  spread  over  the  bushes  to  dry. 
At  noon  he  fed  his  horse;  then  making  him- 
self comfortable  he  lunched  from  his  little 
store  of  food.  He  was  not  quite  alone,  for 
now  and  then  a  squirrel  darted  from  behind  a 
tree  and  seemed  to  cast  reproachful  glances  at 
him  for  his  intrusion  upon  his  domains.  The 
birds,  too,  sang  cheery  songs,  while  the  scream 
of  the  jay  could  be  heard  in  the  distance. 

The  traveler  felt  much  refreshed  after  his 
lunch,  and  threw  himself  upon  the  ground 
under  a  great  pine  tree.  He  slept  a  little,  but 
26 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

was  aroused  by  the  scream  of  the  jays  as  they 
approached  nearer  and  seemed  to  be  at  war 
with  some  other  bird.  He  arose  at  once  and 
consulting  his  watch  he  found  that  it  was 
time  to  resume  his  journey. 

The  old  horse  stood  half  dozing  in  the 
shade  and  seemed  to  show  no  signs  of  anxiety 
as  to  the  welfare  of  either  for  the  night.  Once 
under  way  again  he  soon  bore  his  rider  into  a 
region  of  delightful  interest. 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  the  breath  of 
the  pines  and  hemlocks.  The  rhododendrons 
reared  their  proud  heads ;  mountain  laurel  and 
azaleas  abounded,  although  not  in  blossom. 
Ferns  fringed  the  banks  of  streams  and  the 
galax,  with  its  shining  leaves,  covered  the 
earth  on  every  side.  Waterfalls  and  cas- 
cades often  greeted  the  eye.  The  view  grew 
wilder  and  more  rugged  as  he  climbed,  and 
there  appeared  a  landscape  of  valleys  and 
hills  of  varying  heights.  In  some  of  the  open 
spaces  range  after  range  of  far  distant  moun- 
tains could  be  seen,  which  resembled  the 
waves  of  the  sea  as  they  rolled  against  the 
amber  sky. 

He  had  now  passed  Vineland,  a  pretty  little 
hamlet  snugly  nestled  in  the  Blue  Ridge.  He 
27 


HEREFORD 

had  traveled  over  twenty-five  miles,  and  was 
going  on  to  the  next  settlement,  where  he 
learned  that  he  could  find  less  expensive  ac- 
commodations for  the  night  than  at  Vineland. 
After  traveling  some  distance  and  seeing  no 
signs  of  a  village,  he  feared  that  he  had  mis- 
understood his  directions  and  taken  the  wrong 
road.  He  was  evidently  on  the  way  to  the 
mountains,  for  the  grade  was  rising  and  the 
road  grew  rough.  It  was  getting  late  in  the 
afternoon  and  would  soon  be  twilight. 

His  horse  showed  signs  of  great  fatigue,  so 
he  could  not  retrace  his  steps.  He  knew, 
however,  that  he  was  in  the  mountaineer's 
region  and  he  would  doubtless  soon  find  a 
cabin ;  then  he  would  ask  for  lodgings.  Pres- 
ently he  saw  one  a  little  distance  from  the 
road  and  turned  at  this  point.  On  reaching 
the  house  he  dismounted  and  rapped  on  the 
door.  It  was  only  partly  opened  by  its  occu- 
pant. Hereford  made  known  his  wishes,  but 
he  was  at  once  repulsed  and  told  to  move  on. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  this  man  was  prob- 
ably a  "moonshiner,"  and  having  heard  so 
much  about  the  desperate  nature  of  some  of 
them,  he  did  not  press  his  request,  but  quietly 
withdrew  and  continued  his  journey. 
28 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

He  soon  overtook  a  boy  and  inquired 
how  far  it  was  to  the  next  house.  The  boy 
replied,  "It's  about  a  mile  beyond  the  bend 
that's  jes  ahead  o'  yo';  it  sets  back  from  the 
road,  but  yo'  can't  miss  it.  It's  my  home  and 
I  reckon  I'll  get  there  'bout  as  soon  as  yo'  by 
the  looks  of  yo'  horse!" 

"My  horse  is  very  tired  and  so  am  I,  and 
hungry,  too,"  replied  the  traveler.  "Do  you 
think  I  can  get  food  and  shelter  at  your 
house?" 

"I  don't  know.  Pa  won't  put  up  some 
folks,  but  he  may  yo'.  Where  yo'  from?" 

"I've  ridden  from  Spartanburg  to-day,  but 
am  from  the  North." 

"Well,  yo'  can  ask  'Dad,'  "  said  the  boy. 
Hereford  thanked  him  and  pursued  his  way. 
"A  mile  farther,"  he  soliloquized,  "to  travel 
alone  in  this  unknown  land.  But  I'm  glad  I 
met  the  boy;  he  may  help  me." 

Finally  he  saw  a  flickering  light.  As  he 
drew  near  he  behel'd  a  neat  little  house  and 
there  stopped  and  asked  for  a  night's  lodging. 
He  was  answered  by  a  few  questions  from 
the  man  who  opened  the  door.  "Yo'  are  a 
stranger  'round  these  parts,  I  reckon.  What's 
yo'  business  here;  huntin'  for  anyone  in  per- 
29 


HEREFORD 

ticuler?" 

"No,"  answered  Hereford.  "I'm  from 
Pennsylvania  and  know  no  one  here,  but  have 
come  to  find  a  place  to  open  a  school."  Then 
he  was  asked  to  walk  in  and  was  kindly  greet- 
ed by  the  inmates  of  the  cabin.  In  reply  to 
his  request  for  lodgings  his  host  said:  "I 
reckon  we-uns  can  sleep  yer  by  changin'  about 
some  and  eat  yer,  too.  Supper's  all  ready 
now." 

The  last  part  of  this  sentence  might  have 
'disconcerted  the  traveler,  but  for  the  unmis- 
takable appearance  of  hospitality  which  beam- 
ed upon  all  the  faces  which  now  appeared. 
The  eldest  son  was  sent  out  to  take  care  of 
the  horse;  then  they  all  took  chairs  at  the 
table,  which  was  already  set  for  six  persons. 
Another  plate  was  brought  and  Hereford 
was  told  to  help  himself. 

His  appetite  had  been  sharpened  by  his 
long  ride,  and  he  enjoyed  a  hearty  meal, 
which  consisted  of  bacon,  stewed  beans,  corn 
pones  and  cheese. 

The  cabin  was  one  story,  containing  three 

rooms  and  shed.     There  was  no  plaster  nor 

paper  on  the  walls.     The  floors  were  bare, 

with  the  exception  of  a  few  mats.    There  was 

30 


"SJ 

a 

a 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

a  good  cooking-stove  in  the  kitchen  where  the 
table  was  set  and  an  air  of  neatness  prevailed. 

Upon  inquiry  as  to  location  Hereford  was 
informed  that  he  was  on  the  outskirts  of  Glen- 
burg,  five  miles  from  the  village.  They  re- 
tired early  and  the  tired  traveler's  rest  was 
sweet. 

He  was  awakened  early  in  the  morning  by 
the  call  of  the  cardinal  bird  nearby.  He  dozed 
again,  but  a  little  later  arose  and  dressed, 
then  went  forth  to  enjoy  the  dawning  of  the 
beautiful  day. 

There  was  a  chill  in  the  wooded  hollows 
suggestive  of  our  northern  clime,  but  as  the 
sun  rose  higher  its  genial  warmth  was  felt  in 
the  open  places. 

People  living  in  cities  know  very  little 
about  the  coming  of  morning,  when  the  sky 
is  ablaze  with  golden  tints,  and  when  every 
sight  is  a  scene  of  beauty,  and  every  sound  is 
like  sweetest  music. 

After  breakfast  he  strolled  about  the  place 
with  Mr.  Hathorn,  his  host,  and  told  him  of 
his  project;  how  he  was  sent  to  open  a  little 
school  among  them,  but  he  hardly  knew  how 
to  begin,  unless  he  could  obtain  the  use  of  a 
vacant  cabin. 

31 


HEREFORD 

Mr.  Hathorn  listened  attentively,  then  in- 
vited his  guest  to  stay  with  him  a  few  days 
and  he  would  see  what  could  be  done.  "We- 
uns  do  need  a  school  sho'  'nough,"  he  said. 

Hereford  was  very  glad  to  remain  where 
he  was  so  comfortable  in  order  that  he  might 
have  time  to  think  out  future  plans  as  he  be- 
came better  acquainted  with  the  people  and 
their  needs. 

Mr.  Hathorn's  family  consisted  of  his 
wife,  his  eldest  son  Luther,  Max  and  Belle 
(two  younger  children),  and  a  daughter 
named  Ruth,  about  eighteen  years  old.  She 
was  very  shy  and  spoke  only  when  addressed. 
She  was  of  medium  height,  with  the  glow  of 
health  upon  her  full  cheeks.  Her  fair  com- 
plexion and  large  blue  eyes  were  in  perfect 
harmony  with  her  yellow  hair,  which  was 
knotted  high  on  her  head.  Her  lips  were  full, 
giving  warmth  to  the  lines  of  her  mouth. 
She  wore  a  simple  calico  dress  and  shoes 
which  were  heavy,  worn  and  soiled  with  red 
clay  mud,  which  was  everywhere  and  adhered 
to  everything  with  which  it  chanced  to  come 
in  contact. 

When  evening  came  again  Max  and  Belle 
played  by  themselves  in  a  corner  of  the  room, 
32 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

having  for  a  companion  a  brown  and  white 
hound.  He  was  a  good-natured  dog  and  ap- 
peared to  watch  with  affectionate  glances  their 
every  movement.  Their  talk  was  50/Jo  voce, 
but  occasionally  a  dispute  arose  upon  some 
matter,  and  their  voices  would  rise  to  higher 
tones,  when  they  were  at  once  silenced  by  a 
word  from  their  father.  Children,  however, 
cannot  keep  quiet  very  long,  and  soon  they 
were  disputing  again,  until  finally,  they  were 
sent  to  bed. 

When  they  were  left  to  themselves  Here- 
ford enjoyed  further  conversation  with  Mr. 
Hathorn.  He  found  him  intelligent  and  in- 
teresting as  he  related  his  tales  of  adventure, 
and  of  the  early  settlement  of  his  ancestors 
amid  the  wilds. 

They  retired  early  and  sleep  soon  overcame 
Hereford  and  bore  him  off  to  dreamland. 

The  morning  was  clear  and  cool,  the  fresh 
bracing  air  was  a  stimulant  which  made  Here- 
ford feel  equal  to  almost  any  undertaking. 
His  thoughts  were  busy  as  his  plans  one  after 
another  began  to  take  shape. 

Possessing  an  investigating  turn  of  mind 
Hereford  was  interested  in  learning  all  he 
could  concerning  the  origin  and  history  of  the 
33 


HEREFORD 

peculiar  people  among  whom  he  had  cast  his 
lot.  Before  leaving  Sunledge  he  had  learned 
by  consulting  books  that  the  genealogy  of 
some  of  the  Huguenot  settlers  of  the  moun- 
tain section  of  the  South  led  back  to  proud 
and  distinguished  families  of  France. 

The  court  of  Louis  XIV,  King  of  France, 
was  the  most  elegant  the  world  has  ever  seen. 
Courtiers  arrayed  themselves  in  princely 
splendor,  and  beautiful  women  whose  bright- 
ness outshone  the  flowers  of  eastern  climes 
lent  their  charm. 

Among  the  most  brilliant  was  Madame  de 
Maintenon.  She  was  left  a  widow  at  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age,  and  being  poor  she  came 
to  the  royal  court  as  governess,  and  soon  gain- 
ed the  favor  of  the  King,  who  gave  her  the 
title  of  "Marchioness"  and  made  her  lady-in- 
waiting  to  the  dauphin's  wife. 

Louis  XIV  possessed  a  selfish,  grasping, 
sensual  nature,  but  he  was  a  great  King. 
When  not  engaged  in  war  this  monarch  built 
palaces  and  surrounded  them  with  beautiful 
gardens.  His  political  life  was  despotic,  and 
he  considered  himself  the  master  of  the  lives 
and  properties  of  his  subjects. 

Although  his  sway  was  absolute,  French 
34 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

literature  and  art  flourished.  This  age  pro- 
duced celebrated  poets  and  divines,  and  all 
kinds  of  public  works  were  improved.  The 
people,  however,  feared  their  King,  as  did  all 
Europe.  At  length  there  came  a  day 
when  he  made  a  false  move.  It  was  when 
in  the  palace  of  Fontainbleau  Louis  revoked 
the  Edict  of  Nantes.  He  was  influenced  and 
encouraged  in  this  act  by  that  unprincipled 
woman,  Madame  de  Maintenon. 

The  ravens  must  have  flown  around  the 
palace  walls.  The  wind  must  have  moaned 
through  the  branches  of  the  trees  in  the  Fon- 
tainbleau forest,  for  a  fateful  deed  was  to  be 
performed  within  the  palace.  Death  and  de- 
struction were  near  at  hand.  The  protestant 
churches  lost  all  protection  through  the  revo- 
cation of  the  Edict  of  Nantes. 

The  people  at  first  were  dazed  and  then 
broke  forth  with  all  the  fury  of  a  mob,  and  the 
Huguenots  (for  such  were  the  reformers  or 
new  church  people  called)  suffered  great  per- 
secution. Some  were  exiled,  some  escaped  to 
England,  Switzerland,  Holland  and  America. 

Among  the  refugees  who  found  their  way 
to  the  new  world  was  an  Englishman,  Samuel 
Hathorn,  and  his  wife,  the  latter  a  Huguenot. 
35 


HEREFORD 

They  were  living  in  France  at  the  time  of  the 
outbreak  and  in  company  with  other  refugees 
and  emigrants  from  England,  Ireland  and 
Scotland,  they  sailed  for  America.  They 
landed  in  Norfolk,  Virginia,  but  afterward 
moved  to  Richmond,  where  they  and  their 
descendants  lived  until  1793.  At  this  time 
the  cotton-gin  was  invented  and  non-slave- 
holders who  were  dependent  upon  wages 
could  not  readily  as  formerly  find  employ- 
ment. 

In  consequence,  many  were  driven  back  to 
the  mountains.  Among  the  number  were 
Nathan  Hathorn  (a  grandson  of  Samuel) 
and  his  family.  Nathan  and  his  friends  form- 
ed a  little  company  and  procured  mountain 
wagons  and  started  for  the  wilds  of  Western 
North  Carolina. 

Mr.  Hathorn  had  inherited  a  love  for  the 
mountains  from  his  ancestors,  whose  English 
home  was  among  the  hills  of  Derbyshire, 
which  lies  between  Yorkshire  and  Leicester- 
shire, and  is  famous  for  its  beautiful  scenery. 

Mrs.  Hathorn,  too,  loved  the  hills,  for  she 
was  of  Scotch-Irish  descent,  and  her  ancestors, 
like  the  Hathorns,  had  dwelt  amid  rugged 
scenes. 

36 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

William  Hathorn,  in  whose  home  Here- 
ford was  a  guest,  was  a  grandson  of  this  old 
pioneer,  and  lived,  as  did  his  grandfather,  by 
hunting  and  farming.  The  soil  being  poor, 
the  farms  were  not  thrifty  looking,  although 
this  one  was  far  superior  to  many  of  the 
others.  This  family  and  the  majority  of  the 
mountain  people  were  of  good  Anglo-Saxon 
blood,  honest,  loyal,  and  law-abiding;  a  class 
entirely  distinct  from  the  poor  whites  of  the 
lowlands. 

The  absence  of  schools  and  churches  ac- 
counted for  the  ignorance  which  prevailed  in 
this  section. 

The  Blue  Ridge,  which  is  the  most  easterly 
range  of  the  Alleghanies,  has  been  a  barrier 
which  has  cut  off  communication  with  the  out- 
side world  until  recent  years.  There  are  over 
two  million  people  now  living  in  these  south- 
ern mountains. 

It  may  be  asked,  are  these  people  law- 
abiding  when  they  break  the  law  by  making 
and  selling  whiskey  without  paying  a  tax  to 
the  government?  'Let  us  look  at  both  sides 
of  the  matter.  Then,  perhaps,  we  shall  not  be 
so  ready  to  condemn,  but  feel  more  inclined 
to  throw  over  them  the  mantle  of  charity. 
37 


HEREFORD 

"In  the  more  remote  fastnesses  of  the  Alle- 
ghanies  the  'secret  still'  is  a  recognized  insti- 
tution. These  mountaineers  think  that  so 
long  as  they  do  not  interfere  with  other  peo- 
ple, they  have  a  right  to  pursue  peaceably  the 
business  of  distilling  whiskey. 

When  the  revenue  agents  come  to  arrest 
them,  to  confiscate  their  small  property  and  to 
shoot  them  down  if  necessary,  they  feel  that 
they  have  the  right  to  resist." 

If  they  find  out  that  a  neighbor  has  given 
information  against  them,  they  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  kill  him,  burn  his  house  and  sometimes 
whip  his  family. 

These  people  have  been  so  hunted  that  they 
are  suspicious  of  strangers,  but  when  they  find 
that  one  has  no  intention  of  molesting  them 
they  are  very  friendly. 

Hereford  had  passed  a  week  in  this  moun- 
tain home;  a  very  pleasant  week,  too,  for  a 
young  adventurer.  He  realized,  however, 
that  he  had  been  sent  there  for  something 
besides  mere  pleasure,  and  he  felt  that  he  must 
not  prolong  his  visit  unless  some  arrange- 
ment could  immediately  be  made  for  opening 
a  school.  He  expressed  these  thoughts  to  his 
host  at  the  close  of  the  week.  It  was  then 
38 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

Mr.  Hathorn  offered  him  the  use  of  the  old 
log  cabin,  which  had  once  been  his  grand- 
father's home  and  was  at  that  time  being  used 
for  storage.  Hereford  was  told  that  he  could 
continue  to  abide  with  the  Hathorn  family, 
that  his  board  would  cost  him  nothing,  and 
the  children  of  the  household  would  make  the 
beginning  of  his  school  possible.  He  gladly 
agreed  to  this,  with  the  understanding  that  he 
would  be  allowed  to  assist  about  the  place  out 
of  school  hours.  So  it  was  settled  that  he 
should  remain  at  Glenburg. 

Work  commenced  at  once  upon  the  cabin, 
and  Luther  lent  a  helping  hand.  They  soon 
had  put  in  glass  windows  to  let  in  the  sun- 
light, laid  a  new  rough  floor  and  fashioned  a 
number  of  board  seats.  Hereford  purchased 
a  few  chairs  and  a  table,  which  served  for  a 
desk.  He  also  constructed  a  blackboard  and 
was  finally  ready  to  receive  his  books  and 
other  necessary  things  which  he  had  ordered 
to  be  sent  on  to  him. 

The  school  began  with  only  the  members 
of  the  HathonT  family,  but  soon  ten  more 
children  were  added,  some  of  whom  lived  at 
a  distance  of  four  miles  away. 

Max  and  Belle  Hathorn  soon  learned  to 
39 


HEREFORD 

read.  Luther  struggled  hard,  but  at  first 
made  little  progress. 

Mr.  Hathorn  and  his  wife  came  in  occa- 
sionally to  listen.  The  former  said  he  guess- 
ed he  was  too  old  to  learn  and  he  would  not 
apply  himself,  but  Mrs.  Hathorn  took  more 
pains  and  finally  did  learn  to  read  and  write. 
Both  of  the  parents,  however,  were  equally 
interested  in  the  success  of  the  school.  Ruth 
progressed  rapidly  and  some  of  the  others 
who  had  inherited  intelligence  with  the  old 
Huguenot  blood  led  the  classes. 

As  Ruth  gained  in  knowledge  she  grew 
ambitious  in  other  ways,  and  became  more 
and  more  refined  in  manner. 

Oh !  the  delight  that  came  into  the  heart  of 
that  young  teacher  during  the  first  weeks  of 
his  new  career!  Sixteen  eager  faces  looking 
into  ins  each  day  for  light.  What  a  privilege 
was  his  to  point  them  the  way!  True,  he 
often  became  weary  in  teaching  the  rudiments, 
but  the  aptitude  of  the  leaders  gave  him  cour- 
age and  he  often  called  upon  them  to  assist 
him  with  the  younger  ones. 

The  minds  of  the  majority  of  these  chil- 
dren were  fresh  and  eager  to  respond  to  every 
effort,  and  even  those  who  were  dull,  were  en- 
40 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

thusiastic  and  persevering. 

One  evening  as  the  members  of  the  house- 
hold were  seated  around  the  table  look- 
ing over  some  pictures  which  Hereford  had 
just  taken  from  his  trunk,  he  chanced  to  ask 
questions  about  the  man  to  whom  he  had  ap- 
plied for  lodgings  on  the  night  of  his  arrival 
at  Glenburg.  He  learned  that  his  name  was 
Ike  Hardwick,  that  he  had  a  wife  and  three 
children,  the  eldest  of  whom  was  Sam,  who 
was  about  twenty-one  years  old.  The  other 
two  were  much  younger.  Hereford  asked 
them  if  they  thought  it  probable  that  the  chil- 
dren would  come  to  his  school  if  they  were 
invited.  He  was  answered  quite  sharply  by 
Mr.  Hathorn  and  told  that  he  had  better  keep 
away  from  them,  and  so  the  subject  dropped. 

True,  Hereford  had  not  liked  the  appear- 
ance of  the  man  as  he  saw  him  in  the  twilight, 
but  if  he  could  be  made  to  understand  that 
one  only  meant  to  help  him,  might  he  not  be 
reasonable?  With  these  thoughts  in  mind 
Hereford  strolled  down  over  the  hill  the  fol- 
lowing morning  and  soon  came  to  the  cabin, 
which,  as  has  already  been  stated,  was  set 
back  from  the  road  and  partly  concealed  by  a 
thicket.  As  he  approached  a  man  emerged 
41 


HEREFORD 

from  the  cabin;  he  was  not  very  tall,  but  ap- 
peared to  be  exceedingly  powerful.  He  pos- 
sessed a  strong  face.  His  brown  hair  was 
profuse,  straight  and  coarse,  and  the  unkempt 
locks  partly  covered  his  low  broad  forehead. 
His  eyes  were  gray  and  penetrating;  his  beard 
was  short  and  rounded  and  the  upper  lip  was 
shaven.  He  wore  a  blue  flannel  shirt,  which 
was  turned  away  at  the  throat,  exposing  a  full 
brown  chest.  His  coat  and  trousers  were 
coarse  and  much  worn.  He  spoke  in  a  gruff 
voice,  which  Hereford  had  heard  before,  on 
the  day  of  his  arrival  among  the  mountain- 
eers. 

"We-uns  don'  want  yo'  about  here,"  he 
said.  "Get  away  or  yo'll  be  sorry.  We-uns 
are  plum'  sot  agin  meddling  folks  an'  when 
sech  as  yo'  bother  us  we  get  shet  of  'em  fo' 
sho,  do  yo'  hear?"  As  he  spoke  he  drew  a 
revolver  from  under  his  coat  and  said  to  his 
intruder,  "I  give  yo'  warning."  At  this  re- 
ception Hereford's  blood  ran  cold,  but  he 
summoned  self-control  and  said: 

"I  have  not  come  to  meddle;  you  are  hasty; 

won't  you  listen  a  moment  to  what  I  want  to 

say?"     But  the  other  made  no  further  talk, 

and  turned  away,  when  Hereford  also  turned 

42 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

and  wandered  back  by  the  main  road. 

He  was  sure  now  that  this  man  was  a 
moonshiner  and  probably  thought  that  his 
"secret  still"  was  being  traced.  "This  ac- 
counts," he  thought,  "for  the  Hathorns'  si- 
lence respecting  that  family." 

Hereford  decided  to  keep  this  little  affair 
to  himself;  later,  perhaps,  some  occasion 
would  arise  which  would  enable  him  to  prove 
to  Mr.  Hardwick  that  he  was  not  his  enemy. 
Perhaps  he  could  yet  reach  his  son  Sam  in 
spite  of  that  young  man's  sullen  and  unap- 
proachable mood  which  he  had  thus  far  shown 
when  he  had  met  him.  It  was  quite  evident 
that  the  school  did  not  meet  with  the  approval 
of  this  family,  and  certain  it  was,  too,  that 
they  felt  very  unfriendly  toward  the  teacher 
personally.  He  had,  however,  been  told  to 
expect  opposition  and  persecution  and  that 
he  might  not  be  able  to  escape  even  personal 
violence. 

A  few  mornings  after  his  call  on  Mr. 
Hardwick  he  went  as  usual  to  the  school  house 
a  little  before  the  opening  hour,  when,  to  his 
dismay,  he  discovered  that  the  glass  had  been 
broken  in  the  windows,  the  legs  of  his  chair 
sawed  off,  and  the  books  thrown  about  in 
43 


HEREFORD 

every  direction.  He  then  went  to  the  barn  to 
see  if  his  horse  had  shared  in  the  persecution, 
and  there  poor  "Jerry"  stood  with  his  mane 
cropped  short  and  his  tail  sheared,  which  gave 
him  something  of  the  appearance  of  a  mule. 
The  poor  beast  looked  forlorn  enough  and 
appeared  conscious  of  his  disgrace.  Instinc- 
tively Hereford  threw  his  arms  around  his 
horse's  neck  and  felt  for  the  first  time  a  feel- 
ing of  homesickness.  But  there  was  not  then 
time  for  repining,  so  he  immediately  returned 
to  the  schoolroom  where  the  children  were  al- 
ready arriving.  He  picked  up  the  books  and 
brushed  up  the  broken  pieces  of  glass  as 
quickly  as  possible  and  hid  away  the  disabled 
chair.  The  broken  windows  were  quickly 
discovered,  however,  by  the  children,  and 
they  all  felt  indignant  toward  the  trespasser. 

The  Hathorns  suspected  who  the  guilty 
ones  were,  but  no  names  were  mentioned. 
The  next  day  Luther  assisted  in  setting  the 
glass,  but  he  could  not  change  poor  Jerry's 
looks. 

That  evening  they  devised  plans  by  which 
the  income  of  the  farm  might  be  increased. 
Money  was  greatly  needed,  so  Hereford  de- 
cided to  make  application  to  his  little  syndi- 
44 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

cate  for  money  to  be  advanced  for  the  pur- 
chase of  more  stock  for  the  farm.  The  money 
would  be  taken  as  a  loan  and  repaid  in  small 
sums  as  the  future  income  of  the  farm  made 
it  possible. 

After  the  school  hours  were  over  for  the 
day  Hereford  generally  assisted  in  the  farm 
work.  The  climate  was  unsurpassed  and  he 
enjoyed  the  relaxation  and  exercise  in  the 
open  air.  At  the  close  of  one  of  these  beauti- 
ful days  Hereford  strayed  away  to  the  hill- 
top. The  galax  leaves  which  covered  the 
ground  and  boulders  by  the  way,  were  turning 
to  a  beautiful  bronze  color.  Far  above  sway- 
ed the  branches  of  the  oaks  whose  dying 
leaves  fluttered  in  the  breeze.  Great  masses 
of  fleecy  clouds  sailed  across  the  deep  blue 
sky,  urged  forward  by  the  energy  of  the 
northwest  wind. 

The  song  birds  had  gone,  but  occasionally 
a  rabbit  or  a  squirrel  made  his  appearance, 
and  once  a  stray  pig  was  seen  making  a  hasty 
escape  from  the  bushes. 

As  Hereford  strolled  on  he  was  thinking 

about  what  he  ought  to  do  for  these  people 

on  Sundays.    They  already  observed  the  day, 

for  they  were  of  the  Presbyterian  faith,  or 

45 


HEREFORD 

represented  the  other  evangelical  denomina- 
tions. They  all  stood  for  something  definite 
in  religion  and  held  protracted  meetings 
whenever  a  preacher  came  around,  which  was 
perhaps  once  a  year.  So  they  were  naturally 
religious,  having  inherited  this  from  their  an- 
cestors. These  people  really  needed  educa- 
tional more  than  religious  teaching.  Music, 
however,  was  needed  and  an  organized  meet- 
ing for  the  people. 

Hereford  could  sing  and  play  simple  music 
and  he  thought  if  he  only  had  a  little  organ 
he  could  organize  such  a  meeting  and  hold  it 
in  the  school  room  Sunday  afternoon,  calling 
it  The  Mission. 

Christmas  was  near  at  hand,  only  six  days 
more !  In  his  letters  home  he  wrote  of  his 
work  and  of  his  needs.  So  it  was  arranged 
by  the  loved  ones  he  had  left  behind  that  he 
should  have  the  little  organ  belonging  to  his 
sister  Agnes,  and  she  should  have  a  larger  one 
for  her  own  use.  Already  the  instrument  was 
on  the  way,  and  another  box  containing  cloth- 
ing which  Agnes  had  solicited  from  several 
sources. 

In  due  time  the  boxes  arrived  and  were 
opened  on  Christmas  Eve.  The  organ  was 
46 


HEART  OF  THE  BLUE  RIDGE 

placed  in  the  school  room,  and  the  neighbors, 
far  and  near,  came  to  see  it,  as  one  after  an- 
other learned  of  its  arrival.  The  other  box 
which  contained  clothing,  reading  matter  and 
gifts  for  the  pupils,  was  duly  appreciated. 

Christmas  morning  was  clear  and  cold, 
snow  fell  during  the  night,  but  it  soon  disap- 
peared under  the  warm  rays  of  the  noonday  sun. 

When  they  resumed  school  work  they  now 
had  music,  in  addition  to  their  studies.  They 
sang  every  day.  Some  of  the  voices  were  good 
and  they  learned  to  keep  very  good  time.  At 
length  the  schoolmaster  noticed  that  Ruth 
possessed  a  voice  which  seemed  quite  promis- 
ing. He  gave  her  singing  extra  attention  out 
of  school  hours  and  he  soon  noticed  improve- 
ment. He  recognized  a  fine  quality,  which, 
if  cultivated,  would  doubtless  develop  her 
voice  into  that  of  a  high  soprano.  He  pro- 
cured some  vocal  exercises  for  her  to  practise 
and  later  he  sent  for  some  simple  solos,  which 
she  learned  to  render  in  a  very  pleasing  man- 
ner. They  arranged  to  have  a  praise  service 
on  Sunday  evenings,  after  which  Hereford 
read  to  them  and  sometimes  gave  little  talks. 
Thus  he  passed  his  Sunday  evenings  with  the 
simple  mountaineers. 

47 


Ill 

Sally  Burns 

ONE  of  their  frequent  visitors  was 
Sally  Burns,  a  neighbor  whose 
house    was    a    mile    from    the 
Hathorns.     She  lived  with  her 
parents,  who  had  nine  children, 
but  only  one  besides  Sally  was  living  at  home ; 
this  one  was  a  younger  brother. 

Sally  possessed  a  bright,  cheerful  disposi- 
tion, and  was  the  light  of  her  father's  house- 
hold, while  her  strength  was  the  strong  arm 
of  the  family.  She  had  the  habit  of  running 
in  at  the  Hathorns  for  a  chat,  and  often,  too, 
at  meal  times.  She  never  would  join  them  at 
the  table,  no  matter  how  much  she  was  urged, 
for  reasons  known  only  to  herself.  Some  said 
that  she  formed  the  habit  of  eating  alone 
when  her  eldest  brother  was  at  home,  for  they 
were  always  at  variance,  and  at  last  she  re- 
fused to  sit  at  the  same  table.  So  after  he 
went  away  she  still  continued  to  eat  alone. 
She  always  answered,  when  invited  to  the 
table  at  the  Hathorns,  "I'll  jess  sit  an'  see  yo' 
49 


HEREFORD 

eat."  So  she  sat,  and  rocked,  and  watched 
all  with  evident  pleasure. 

They  well  knew  that  she  was  rather  com- 
municative, and  this  made  them  sometimes 
feel  uncomfortable  lest  they  should  say  some- 
thing which  she  might  repeat  and  others  mis- 
construe. 

Mrs.  Hathorn  told  Hereford  that  Sally 
had  always  come  in  whenever  she  pleased,  but 
that  she  seemed  to  come  more  at  meal  times 
since  he  had  arrived.  Sally  came,  however, 
simply  out  of  pure  curiosity.  She  thought 
she  could  hear  the  news,  and  the  school,  too, 
was  no  doubt  a  great  source  of  wonderment 
to  her.  Mrs.  Hathorn  often  asked  her  to 
join  the  classes,  but  the  others  kept  quite  si- 
lent at  such  times. 

Sally  had  no  ambition  to  learn,  or,  at  least, 
she  was  not  willing  to  take  the  pains  it  re- 
quired. She  enjoyed  her  life  in  her  own  way, 
and  she  felt  quite  satisfied  with  her  lot  in  life. 
She  depended  upon  the  local  news  for  her  en- 
tertainment, and  she  was  indeed  well  inform- 
ed as  to  the  affairs  of  the  community  for  miles 
around. 

She  seemed  to  be  the  first  one  to  hear  of  a 
birth,  accident  or  death.  She  knew  how 
50 


SALLY  BURNS 

many  pounds  of  butter  such  a  one  had  made 
during  the  year,  and  how  many  eggs  another 
had  sold,  or  how  many  apples  still  another 
had  gathered  for  market. 

Still  Sally  possessed  splendid  qualities, 
which  were  occasionally  brought  to  the  sur- 
face, and  it  was  generally  conceded  that  in 
spite  of  her  gossiping  tendencies  she  was 
"mighty"  good  in  many  ways,  especially  in 
time  of  trouble. 

Sally  had  had  offers  of  marriage,  but  each 
was  repulsed.  She  seemed  to  have  no  inclina- 
tion toward  matrimony.  Her  parents  had 
worked  very  hard  to  bring  up  their  large  fam- 
ily and  now  in  their  declining  years  she  felt 
that  she  must  not  leave  them.  They  needed 
her  strength,  and  good  cheer.  Her  own  in- 
terests she  thought  could  not  for  a  moment 
be  considered  distinct  from  theirs.  So  it  was 
that  she  often  went  into  the  fields  and  did  a 
man's  work.  Or  rising  with  the  lark  she 
bounded  over  hill  and  dale  to  the  streams  for 
fish.  Seldom,  too,  did  she  angle  in  vain. 

She  loved  her  work,  her  freedom,  and  in- 
dependence. When  bantered  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  marriage  she  laughed  good  naturedly 
and  said: 


HEREFORD 

'"Pears  like  I  ain't  seen  the  right  one,  fo' 
sholy  I  don'  want  any  I've  seen  so  far." 

Perhaps  she  demanded  too  much  in  a  man. 
Her  ideal  may  have  been  too  high  above  any 
she  would  be  likely  to  find  in  her  limited  cir- 
cle. Or  she  may  have  been  one  of  God's 
chosen  ones  to  accomplish  some  of  His  special 
work  in  the  world.  Such  persons  would  miss 
their  mission  by  marriage. 

The  world  could  not  have  spared  Florence 
Nightingale,  famed  as  she  is  for  her  work  in 
reforming  the  sanitary  condition  of  the  Brit- 
ish army.  The  world  could  not  have  spared 
the  band  of  sisters  in  Paris,  who  first  taught 
her  the  system  of  nursing.  Nor  thousands  of 
noble  souls  who  have  always  been  engaged  in 
the  great  works  of  the  world. 

So  it  was,  perhaps,  with  Sally.  She  was 
needed  to  go  on  errands  of  mercy,  yea !  often 
had  she  responded  to  the  "cry  of  the  human;" 
often  had  her  strong  arms  lightened  the  bur- 
den of  some  weary  mother  in  the  sick  room, 
and  her  strong  presence  had  brightened  even 
the  chamber  of  death. 

Ah!  the  world  needs  such  stout  hearts  as 
was  hers.  It  needs  those  who  can  stand  by  in 
the  hour  of  peril.  Blessed,  indeed,  is  their 
52 


SALLY  BURNS 

mission,  and  surely  they  shall  not  miss  their 
reward. 


53 


IV 

Meeting  of  Hereford  and  Sam 


1 


following  weeks  were  about 
the  same  in  routine.  Washing- 
ton's birthday  anniversary  was 
near  at  hand.  They  were  to  have 
a  little  entertainment  on  that 
night.  On  the  afternoon  preceding  the  holi- 
day Hereford  mounted  Jerry  and  went  to  the 
village  to  procure  a  few  things  to  be  used  in 
celebrating  the  occasion. 

The  winter  was  over,  the  sun  was  warm 
and  the  air  balmy.  Men  were  ploughing  and 
spring  work  generally  was  progressing.  As 
the  school  master  was  returning  amid  the 
glow  of  the  golden  sunset,  for  the  sun  had 
just  sunk  behind  the  trees  which  partly  hid 
the  sky,  he  stopped  his  horse  just  before 
he  reached  the  bend,  and  drew  the  rein,  turn- 
ing the  animal  around  in  order  to  better  view 
the  peaceful  southern  scene. 

Spring  with  all  its  delights  had  come,  and 
with  it  the  spirit  of  content  and  happiness, 
which  seemed  to  take  full  posession  of  his 

55 


HEREFORD 

soul,  as  he  felt  the  joy  which  was  in  the  very 
air.  He  became  quite  lost  in  reverie  as  he 
dismounted  to  gather  some  galax  leaves.  His 
thoughts  were  soon  disturbed,  however,  by  ap- 
proaching steps,  which  he  heard  among  the 
bushes,  and  looking  around  he  saw  Sam 
Hardwick  confronting  him. 

The  school  master  spoke  to  him  pleasantly, 
but  Sam  was  surly.  Not  noticing  this,  Here- 
ford ventured  to  invite  him  to  the  entertain- 
ment. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  jes  don'  care  fo'  yo' 
show,  nor  fo'  yo'  either.  Yo'  had  better  a 

d site  staid  where  yo'  was  raised  and  not 

come  here  a  meddlin'  an'  spyin'  'round." 

"I'm  not  a  spy,  nor  do  I  wish  to  meddle," 
interrupted  Hereford,  but  the  mountaineer 
did  not  indicate  in  any  way  that  he  had  heard 
what  was  said,  and  continued:  "'Pears  like 
yo'  seem  to  be  always  under  foot,  but  if  yo' 
go  too  fur,  d yo',  I'll  send  yo'  to  king- 
dom come,  an'  this  is  the  thing  that  would  do 
it  fo'  sho',"  he  said,  as  he  brandished  a  revol- 
ver, while  he  gazed  upon  the  school  master 
with  rising  anger. 

"I  am  unarmed,"  said  Hereford,  endeav- 
oring to  fully  control  the  emotions  which  had 
56 


MEETING  OF  HEREFORD  AND  SAM 

been  so  suddenly  aroused,  "and  for  that  rea- 
son I  have  no  fears  that  you  will  shoot  me, 
for  I  know  that  you  would  not  take  advan- 
tage of  me  in  that  way.  You  possess  too  much 
honor.  If  you  lay  hands  on  me,  I  shall  pro- 
tect myself,"  he  continued,  as  he  threw  his 
shoulders  back,  and  his  great  form  seemed 
to  dilate  to  even  greater  magnitude;  ubut 
listen," 

"Oh,  I  know  them  officers,"  interrupted 
Sam,  "are  mighty  smart;  they've  fooled  we- 
uns  befo'  now,  an'  sometimes  they've  been 
fooled,  an'  some  have  been  sent  to  the  place 
where  they  don'  tell  tales." 

"Let  me  speak  for  myself.  I  insist,"  said 
the  school  master,  "I  am  not  in  league  with 
those  officers,  nor  with  anyone,  to  hunt  you 
down.  I  am  just  what  I  pretend  to  be,  a 
school  master.  I  have  been  sent  here  to  teach, 
so  that  the  younger  ones  may  get  a  little  edu- 
cation, and  that  is  my  only  business,  and  I 
want  to  make  friends  with  the  people." 

Hereford's  words  were  uttered  with  so 
much  sincerity  that  Sam's  face  lighted  up.  He 
seemed  to  understand  now,  and  he  became 
even  communicative  and  said,  "I  allow  that 
yo'  have  done  right  smart  by  the  Hathorns, 
57 


HEREFORD 

but  yo'  see  I  had  quite  a  fancy  for  that  gal 
Ruth  and  had  sot  my  mind  on  telling  her  of  it 
some  day,  but  she  is  getting  so  peart  now,  she 
don't  look  at  me,  and  I  know  mighty  well  that 
'tis  your  devilish  books  and  music  that's  done 
it." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  answered  Hereford,  "if 
I  have  made  trouble  for  you,  for  I  had  no 
thought  of  anything  but  helping  them  to  ac- 
quire a  little  knowledge." 

"May  be  so,"  said  Sam;  "may  be  so,  but  I 
know  she'll  never  look  my  way  now  that  she's 
getting  yo'  laming." 

"Well,"  replied  the  other,  "the  thing  for 
you  to  do  is  to  come  to  school  and  get  some 
learning,  too.  Companionship  in  study,  as 
with  other  work,  often  leads  to  strong  friend- 
ships." 

Again  the  school  master  urged  him  to  come 
to  the  entertainment.  Sam  simply  answered 
that  he  would  think  it  over. 

When  the  night  arrived,  among  the  first  to 
enter  the  cabin  school  room  was  Sam,  who 
strode  in  with  quite  a  beaming  countenance. 
Hereford  took  pains  to  get  him  a  good  seat 
and  showed  him  every  attention. 

The  little  children  took  part  first.  Then 
58 


MEETING  OF  HEREFORD  AND  SAM 

they  sang  songs  in  unison,  afterward  Ruth 
sang  two  solos,  "Annie  Laurie"  and  "My  Old 
Kentucky  Home."  Hereford  played  the  ac- 
companiments to  them  and  he  thought  she  did 
very  well,  but  the  audience  thought  more  than 
that;  they  were  wild  with  delight.  Never  had 
they  had  so  good  a  time  in  their  lives.  At  the 
close  Sam  spoke  to  Ruth ;  he  praised  her  sing- 
ing and  tried  to  be  sociable,  but  she  gave  him 
no  encouragement.  Ruth  was,  in  fact,  too 
far  beyond  him.  She  was  better  born  and  had 
inherited  better  blood.  She  did  not  try  to 
hide  her  dislike  for  him,  and  he  had  good 
sense  and  could  see  that  she  wished  to  be 
honest  in  the  matter,  for  honesty,  and  frank- 
ness, are  traits  respected  by  every  mountain- 
eer. 

Later  Hereford  looked  for  Sam,  as  he 
wished  to  have  another  talk  with  him,  but  he 
had  gone  out  into  the  darkness  and  was  not 
seen  by  Hereford  for  several  days. 

One  afternoon,  as  the  school  master  was 
returning  from  the  village,  he  overtook  Sam 
and  asked  him  how  he  enjoyed  the  concert? 

Sam  answered  that  he  thought  it  was 
"mighty  nice." 

"You  had  better  join  us  now,"  said  the 
59 


HEREFORD 

master.  "You  ought  to  be  learning  with  the 
others;  besides  that  we  wish  to  help  you  to 
leave  off  drinking." 

"Wall,  I've  got  a  wrong  start,"  replied 
Sam.  "If  I  had  begun  befo',  there  might  be 
more  hopes  fo'  me.  I  don'  want  to  study,  an' 
I  don'  want  to  promise  not  to  drink,  so  I 
reckon  yo'  folks  will  go  one  way,  and  I  the 
other."  ' 

Shortly  after  this  conversation  they  met  at 
the  village.  Sam  crossed  over  to  the  corner 
where  Hereford  had  tied  his  horse  and  wait- 
ed for  him  to  come  out  of  the  store. 

"Ma  wants  to  send  the  two  young  uns  to 
your  school,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  the  school 
master  appeared.  "That's  good,"  replied  the 
other.  "They  may  begin  to-morrow,  if  they 
wish." 

"Wall,  I'll  tell  ma.  Yo'  see  we  want  them 
to  know  something  as  well  as  the  Hathorn 
children  and  to  have  a  better  chance  in  life 
than  the  rest  of  us.  I've  treated  yo'  mighty 
mean.  I  was  one  of  the  gang  that  broke  in 
your  school  room  and  I  was  the  one  that  cut 
your  horse's  hair,  but  I  reckon  yo'll  overlook 
it.  I  understand  yo'  better  now  than  then." 

"That  is  all  right,"  said  Hereford,  heartily. 
60 


MEETING  OF  HEREFORD  AND  SAM 

Then  shaking  hands  they  mounted  their 
horses  and  rode  home  together.  The  follow- 
ing day  the  two  Hardwick  children,  a  boy  and 
a  girl,  joined  the  little  cabin  school. 

A  few  days  later  the  school  became  afflicted 
with  an  epidemic  of  measles.  Three  of  the 
pupils  were  at  home  sick  and  others  appeared 
to  be  too  restless  to  study.  So  the  school  was 
closed.  It  was  the  first  week  of  March.  A 
cold  wave  came  suddenly  upon  them.  The 
wind  penetrated  the  poorly  constructed  dwell- 
ings. Some  took  cold  just  as  the  rash  appear- 
ed, which  made  them  very  ill.  There  was 
great  need  of  good  nursing. 

Max  and  Belle  were  among  the  afflicted 
ones,  but  as  they  were  better  cared  for  they 
were  doing  well.  One  little  girl,  who  had 
been  coming  two  miles  to  school,  had  died. 
Hereford  went  to  see  the  family,  which  he 
found  poor,  and  with  but  little  with  which  to 
make  themselves  comfortable.  He  saw  Sally 
there.  She  had  been  the  first  to  hear  of  their 
distress  and  had  taken  them  a  basket  of  food. 
Never  before  had  her  presence  seemed  so  wel- 
come to  Hereford.  The  Hardwick  children, 
including  Sam,  were  among  the  stricken  ones. 
Sam  was  very  ill.  Hereford  took  his  turn  in 
61 

6 


HEREFORD 

watching  with  him.  "If  sister  Agnes  were 
only  here,"  he  thought.  "I  will  send  for  her," 
he  decided  at  last,  and  this  he  accordingly 
did.  She  came  as  soon  as  she  could  get  ready. 

The  day  after  her  arrival  she  was  duly  in- 
stalled at  the  Hardwicks,  as  Sam  was  in  a 
very  critical  condition.  Mr.  Hardwick  and 
his  wife  seemed  fully  to  appreciate  all  that 
was  done  for  their  son ;  and  when  he  began  to 
improve  Agnes  was  almost  worshiped  by 
them. 

They  seemed  to  regard  her  ministrations 
as  help  sent  from  another  world. 

Two  more  children  died  before  the  epi- 
demic waned,  but  they  were  not  school  chil- 
dren. Agnes  remained  at  Glenburg  four 
weeks.  The  last  week,  however,  was  passed 
in  recreation,  in  order  that  she  might  see 
something  of  that  beautiful  section  of  North 
Carolina.  The  Hathorns  planned  many  sight- 
seeing trips  and  Agnes  was  transported  with 
delight,  as  she  and  her  friends  mounted  hill 
after  hill.  They  often  halted  to  rest  the  pa- 
tient mules,  and  when  conversation  waned, 
the  perfect  stillness  following  the  cessation  of 
the  noise  made  by  the  great  lumbering  wheels 
of  the  mountain  wagon  was  very  impressive. 
62 


MEETING  OF  HEREFORD  AND  SAM 

All  seemed  awed  by  the  silence  as  they  viewed 
with  rapture  God's  great  handiwork. 

One  must  see  this  grandeur  himself  in  or- 
der to  realize  its  vastness.  The  mighty 
mountain  ranges  stretching  from  the  north- 
land  on,  on,  toward  the  golden  sunset.  Down 
the  verdant  valleys  flow  rushing  rivers  speed- 
ing on,  perchance  to  start  the  whirring  spin- 
dles of  busy  factory  towns.  Nestling  in  the 
vine-clad  dales,  too,  are  little  villages,  and 
hamlets,  adding  their  human  touch  to  the 
scenes  of  picturesque  beauty. 

At  last  Agnes  returned  to  her  home  and 
Hereford's  school  work  was  resumed,  and 
continued  until  the  first  of  July. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  school  there  were 
special  exercises,  to  which  the  parents  and 
friends  were  invited,  and  to  which  even  Sally 
lent  her  presence.  Ruth  sang  some  of  her 
songs  and  then  the  school  sang  in  unison.  At 
the  close  Hereford  gave  a  little  address.  He 
began  with  a  tremulous  voice:  "This  is  the 
last  day  of  school,  but  I  urge  as  many  as  pos- 
sible to  study  during  vacation.  You  can  read 
aloud  and  improve  your  spelling  by  copying 
articles  from  magazines  which  we  have  here 
for  your  use ;  and  any  evening  I  will  help  you 
63 


HEREFORD 

if  you  will  but  come  to  me.  We  wish  to  do 
good  work  next  year,  for  that  will  probably 
be  my  last  one  here,  and  it  may  be  your  last 
opportunity  to  learn.  Now  I  wish  to  impress 
upon  your  minds  a  few  thoughts  for  the  sum- 
mer. You  remember  Uriah  Heep  in  David 
Copperfield  which  I  read  to  you?" 

"Yes,"  came  a  chorus  of  voices. 

"Well,  what  kind  of  a  character  was  his? 
Anyone  may  answer." 

"A  damned  sneak!"  answered  a  chubby 
little  red  haired  boy. 

"A  villain,  sho'  'nough!"  said  another. 
While  Ruth  answered,  "a  hypocrite." 

"Yes,"  said  Hereford,  "you  are  right;  that 
is  the  name  that  best  fits  him.  I  hope  that  no 
one  here  will  grow  to  be  a  hypocrite,  but  you 
will  find  them  out  in  the  great  world  where 
some  of  you  may  go.  You  will  sometimes 
find  them  in  the  church  taking  the  garb  of  re- 
ligion to  cover  their  deceit.  Such  a  person 
generally  looks  very  solemn.  He  seldom 
laughs,  or  if  he  does  forget  himself  in  such  an 
indulgence,  he  seems  to  be  very  sorry  for  it. 
He  will  pray  in  public  twenty  minutes  to  half 
an  hour,  or  if  he  exhorts  he  implies  that  there 
is  too  much  worldliness  among  the  young  peo- 
64 


MEETING  OF  HEREFORD  AND  SAM 

pie,  and  too  much  indifference  among  church 
members.  There  is  nobody  quite  right,  with 
the  exception  of  one,  and  very  humbly  leaves 
you  to  guess  who  that  one  saint  is. 

"You  may  occasionally  find  such  men  in 
the  church,  but  you  will  also  find  many  per- 
sons outside  of  the  church  who  will  not  only 
deceive,  but  seek  to  drag  you  down  to  dishon- 
or, shame  and  ruin.  Learn  to  shun  such: 
learn  to  walk  alone,  rather  than  to  walk  with 
bad  companions.  Strive  to  be  true  men;  raise 
for  yourself  a  fine  ideal  and  try  to  live  it. 

"I  want  you  to  be  temperate  men;  you  can 
never  truly  succeed  in  life  if  you  make  your- 
selves slaves  to  'moonshine.'  I  want  you  to 
be  patriotic,  for  there  are  millions  yearly 
flocking  to  our  shores,  many  of  whom  come 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  anarchy  and  may 
yet  prove  a  menace  to  our  country.  We  may 
need  your  strong  arms  to  help  protect  our 
dear  land  for  which  our  fathers  bled.  Boys, 
if  such  a  time  should  come,  will  you  be 
ready?" 

"Fo'  sho',  sir!  fo'  sho!"  they  shouted,  and 

then  all  the  boys,  girls,  and  visitors  sprang  to 

their  feet  in  wild  excitement,  as  if  the  enemy 

were  just  outside  the  cabin.    When  order  was 

65 


HEREFORD 

restored,  the  master  continued:  "I  also  want 
you  to  be  good  and  kind,  and  to  be  kind 
means  so  much  toward  human  happiness.  You 
can  begin  to-day  in  your  own  homes.  My 
girls  may  take  as  much  of  this  talk  as  will  ap- 
ply to  them,  and  if  you  all  strive  to  attain  the 
character  which  I  wish  you  to  have,  God  will 

help  you." 

******* 

During  vacation  they  had  picnics,  hunting 
and  fishing  parties.  Sam  was  generally  among 
those  present.  He  had  improved  in  every  way. 
He  had  learned  to  read  and  write  from  the 
teachings  of  his  little  brother  and  sister.  He 
worked  to  improve  the  farm;  new  light  had 
dawned  upon  him,  and  when  he  saw  it  he  had 
no  wish  to. turn  back. 


66 


Closing  of  the  Cabin  School 


I 


years  have  elapsed  since  Here- 
ford had  opened  his  school  at 
Glenburg.     During  this  period 
he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
great    progress    in    the    school 
work.      He   was   thinking   now   of   leaving. 
Other  schools  were  already  being  established 
in  different  sections. 

The  mountaineers  were  filled  with  enthusi- 
asm upon  the  subject.  Money  was  raised 
among  them,  and  this,  with  outside  contribu- 
tions, had  swelled  their  fund  to  several  thou- 
sand dollars. 

Hereford  felt  that  he  had  performed  well 
the  work  which  he  was  sent  to  do,  and  now 
he  must  be  getting  established  in  a  more  lucra- 
tive business.  Teaching  had  been  a  stepping 
stone  for  him,  meanwhile  he  had  studied  by 
himself,  and  had  now  decided  to  go  to  Scran- 
ton,  Pa.,  and  take  up  journalism,  a  vocation 
in  which  he  knew  so  many  had  risen  to  dis- 
tinction. 

67 


HEREFORD 

He  confided  his  plans  to  the  Hathorns.  At 
the  same  time  he  told  them  of  Ruth's  great 
musical  possibilities,  and  of  how  they  could 
be  realized  if  she  could  only  receive  instruc- 
tion from  a  great  teacher.  They  answered 
that  they  had  a  relative  in  Richmond  and 
thought  that  perhaps  they  could  make  some 
arrangement  with  her  to  take  Ruth  into  her 
home.  If  she  should  consent,  they  could  raise 
money  for  her  lessons.  Letters  then  passed 
between  the  two  families,  and  it  was  settled 
that  Ruth  should  go  the  first  of  November. 

Hereford  had  already  planned  to  go  to 
Scranton,  but  finding  that  Ruth  was  going  to 
Richmond,  he  changed  his  plan  and  decided 
that  he  also  might  do  as  well  in  that  city.  He 
would  then  at  least  escape  the  long,  tedious 
winters  of  the  North.  So  he  packed  up  his 
effects  and  prepared  to  leave  Glenburg.  The 
organ  was  to  be  presented  to  the  first  mission 
that  should  be  opened  near  them,  while  "Jer- 
ry" was  permitted  to  remain  just  where  he 
was  as  a  present  to  the  family. 

Sally  became  very  much  disturbed  when 

she  learned  that  Hereford  was  going,  and  she 

felt  sure  that  the  school  would  not  be  opened 

again.     She  realized  that  she  was  going  to 

68 


CLOSING  OF  THE  CABIN  SCHOOL 

lose  a  great  source  of  amusement. 

The  middle  of  September  Hereford  bade 
all  his  friends  farewell.  Mr.  Hathorn  and 
Luther  took  htm  and  his  luggage  to  the  sta- 
tion in  the  mountain  wagon. 

As  the  train  drew  up  to  the  depot  Here- 
ford took  his  leave  of  these  two  noble  hearts, 
the  two  who  had  done  so  much  for  his  com- 
fort and  entertainment  during  the  past  two 
years,  and  through  whose  assistance  he  had 
been  enabled  to  impart  the  blessing  of  knowl- 
edge at  least  to  a  few  earnest  minds. 

After  reaching  Richmond  Hereford  soon 
found  his  way  to  Capitol  Hill,  a  most  charm- 
ing and  interesting  spot.  Here  he  saw  the  Old 
Guard  house,  State  Library,  Court  House, 
Governor's  mansion  and  the  Confederate 
Museum,  which  was  once  the  residence  of 
Jefferson  Davis.  This  imposing  structure 
with  its  immense  pillars  both  in  front  and 
rear,  and  long  windows  opening  into  bal- 
conies, overlooked  the  city  below,  which,  like 
Rome,  was  built  upon  seven  hills. 

Hereford  soon  procured  a  position  and  his 
new  work  kept  him  so  busy  that  he  did  not 
have  time  to  be  homesick. 

As  November  approached  Hereford  call- 
69 


HEREFORD 

ed  on  Mrs.  Barton,  the  lady  with  whom  Ruth 
was  to  make  her  home.  He  found  her  a  short, 
stout  woman,  with  fair  complexion,  and  pos- 
sessing a  soft,  pleasant  voice.  She  had  the 
happy  faculty,  too,  of  making  one  feel  per- 
fectly at  ease. 

Hereford  learned  that  Ruth  was  to  come 
the  first  of  November,  and  they  arranged  that 
both  should  meet  her  at  the  train. 

It  did  not  take  Ruth  very  long  to  get  set- 
tled. Mrs.  Barton  arranged  for  the  use  of  a 
piano,  her  own  being  quite  old  and  uncertain 
in  tone.  Then  the  question  of  a  teacher  arose. 
Mrs.  Barton  recommended  Signor  Immovili. 
He  had  been  a  vocal  teacher  in  New  York, 
but  the  climate  there  disagreed  with  him,  so 
he  had  removed  to  Richmond  the  winter  be- 
fore and  had  become  very  popular  and  suc- 
cessful in  his  work. 

At  an  early  date  Mrs.  Barton  and  Ruth 
called  on  him  and  it  was  decided  that  the  new 
pupil  should  begin  her  lessons  at  once. 

Ruth  was  very  happy  in  her  work  and 
found  her  new  home  pleasant. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barton  had  been  living  alone 
with  one  servant  since  the  marriage  of  their 
two  children,  so  they  found  this  young  girl 
70 


CLOSING  OF  THE  CABIN  SCHOOL 

an  agreeable  companion.  They  were  inter- 
ested in  her  work  and  felt  confident  of  her 
ultimate  success. 

Hereford  had  called  occasionally,  wishing 
to  learn  of  Ruth's  progress.  He  was  so  sure 
that  she  would  be  an  artiste,  if  only  the  right 
teacher  could  instruct  her. 

Winter,  or  what  is  termed  winter  in  Rich- 
mond, came  and  went,  and  the  flowers  bloom- 
ed again.  Then  came  June,  decked  in  her 
glorious  attire.  One  evening,  as  Hereford 
entered  his  lodgings,  he  found  a  letter  con- 
taining tickets  and  a  program  for  a  musicale 
to  be  given  by  Immovili's  pupils,  assisted  by 
outside  talent.  He  was  attracted  by  the  sight 
of  Ruth's  name  and  pleased  to  see  that  it  ap- 
peared twice  on  the  program. 

His  pulses  quickened,  for  this  girl  had 
truly  interested  him,  and  now  he  felt  sure  that 
he  had  not  been  mistaken  in  his  estimate  of 
her  talent. 

When  the  evening  of  the  recital  came, 
Hereford  dressed  carefully  and  finding  that  it 
was  still  too  early  for  the  entertainment  to 
begin,  set  out  for  a  walk.  The  moon  was  new 
and  the  young  crescent  looked  peacefully 
down  upon  the  restless  city.  The  gentle 


HEREFORD 

breeze  was  soothing  and  night's  soft  presence 
filled  his  soul  with  delicious  dreaming.  He 
felt  very  happy,  but  in  a  sense  did  not  realize 
his  high  ecstacy.  Finally  he  retraced  his  steps 
and  when  he  reached  the  hall  he  saw  many 
carriages  hurrying  thither. 

Fair  dames  and  charming  misses  alighted, 
all  escorted  by  husbands,  brothers  or  friends. 
The  hall  was  fast  filling  and  Hereford  and 
the  many  others  were  ushered  to  their  seats. 
The  first  number  was  for  violin  and  piano; 
then  came  a  baritone  solo,  which  was  follow- 
ed by  Ruth's  solo,  "Thine  eyes  so  Blue  and 
Tender,"  by  Lassen,  which  she  sweetly  ren- 
dered. Her  next  number  was  Mozart's  "Quan- 
do  Miro  Quel  bel  Ciglio,"  which  she  sang 
in  Italian,  and  her  rendition  of  it  was  fine. 
Her  stage  presence,  too,  was  charming,  and 
her  dress,  of  light  blue  muslin,  harmonized 
well  with  her  wavy  yellow  hair.  Hereford 
wished  that  her  people  could  have  seen  her. 
Surely  they  would  have  been  proud  to  claim 
her  as  their  little  mountain  maid  of  Glen- 
burg. 

Hereford's  expectations  were  more  than 
realized.  He  felt  proud  of  the  mountaineer's 
daughter,  but  something,  however,  deeper 
72 


CLOSING  OF  THE  CABIN  SCHOOL 

than  surprise  and  pride  came  into  his  heart 
that  evening,  something  so  subtle  that  he  did 
not  at  first  recognize  it.  At  length,  however, 
the  truth  forced  itself  upon  him,  that  he  was  in 
love.  A  new  happiness  took  possession  of 
his  soul  and  struggled  for  utterance,  but  he 
held  his  feelings  in  check,  in  spite  of  all  the 
joy  that  had  so  suddenly  overwhelmed 
him.  He  had  no  brilliant  prospect  be- 
fore him.  His  dream  of  success  in  his  new 
profession  was  not  likely  soon  to  be  realized. 
Should  he  look  forward  to  the  editorial  chair, 
there  was  little  or  no  encouragement.  He 
well  knew  that  to  be  a  successful  editor  one 
must  know  something  about  everything,  for 
the  pen  is  the  lever  that  moves  the  world,  and 
there  is  an  endless  demand  upon  the  intellect 
of  the  one  who  wields  it. 

Hereford  was  strong  physically  and  moral- 
ly, and  possessed  an  artistic  temperament 
which  he  may  have  inherited  from  some  old 
Dutch  ancestor.  His  point  of  view  was  that 
of  an  optimist,  for  he  saw  only  the  beautiful 
in  life,  and  tried  to  live  up  to  his  high  ideals. 
Still  for  all  that  he  did  not  quite  measure  up 
to  the  highest  standard  which  the  world  calls 
great.  In  short,  he  did  not  possess  the  ma- 
73 


HEREFORD 

terial  required  for  the  making  of  a  successful 
editor,  and  it  was  well  for  him  that  he  recog- 
nized his  limitations.  So  he  had  no  way  of 
helping  this  young  girl  to  win  success,  and  he 
felt  that  it  would  be  wrong  to  drag  her  down 
from  heights  which,  under  favorable  condi- 
tions, she  would  surely  gain,  to  a  life  of  com- 
mon toil  with  him.  "I  must  wait  for  a  while 
at  least,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  shut  within 
my  heart  this  secret." 

Two  weeks  elapsed,  and  then  he  called  on 
Mrs.  Barton,  hoping  all  the  while  that  he 
would  see  Ruth,  too.  He  was  received  cor- 
dially by  Mrs.  Barton  as  usual.  They  chatted 
for  some  moments  regarding  the  success  of 
the  recital  and  various  other  topics;  finally, 
as  Ruth  did  not  make  her  appearance,  he  ven- 
tured to  inquire  particularly  concerning  her 
and  her  work. 

He  learned  that  she  was  out  walking  with 
her  teacher,  Signor  Immovili.  "Ah !"  he  sim- 
ply answered,  endeavoring  to  conceal  his  sur- 
prise. He  summoned  all  his  self-possession, 
however,  and  continued  conversation,  hoping 
to  learn  why  she  was  in  company  with  her 
teacher  in  a  social  way.  He  did  not  have  to 
talk  very  long  to  accomplish  this,  Mrs.  Bar- 
74 


CLOSING  OF  THE  CABIN  SCHOOL 

ton  being  one  of  those  honest,  open-hearted 
women,  soon  gave  the  desired  information 
without  knowing  that  she  had  told  anything 
in  particular.  "Immovili  had  been  coming 
to  the  house,"  she  said,  "for  several  weeks. 
He  is  very  attentive  and  seems  very  fond  of 
Ruth.  I'm  sorry  that  he  is  an  Italian,"  she 
continued,  "but  his  mother  is  an  English 
woman  and  he  seems  like  a  very  good  man." 

Hereford  had  heard  enough,  and  very 
soon  withdrew,  and  wandered  back  to  his 
room,  where  he  sat  in  deep  meditation  upon 
this  unthought  of  development  of  affairs. 

A  few  days  later  he  received  an  invitation 
from  Ruth  to  tea  to  meet  Immovili.  She 
wrote  that  she  wished  for  his  advice  upon  an 
important  matter.  He  knew  full  well  what 
that  meant,  and  summoned  his  fortitude  ac- 
cordingly. 

Hereford  went  at  the  appointed  time  and 
met  her  teacher.  He  appeared  to  be  a  man 
about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  of  slight  and 
willowy  form,  rather  above  the  medium 
height.  His  smooth  face  was  oval,  his  eyes 
were  large  and  black.  His  English,  although 
broken,  was  spoken  in  a  charming  manner. 
Hereford  could  not  help  being  pleased  with 
75 


HEREFORD 

him,  and  the  thought  occurred  to  him  at  once 
that  this  man  was  the  one  who  could  help 
Ruth  to  success.  She  had  told  him  that  Im- 
movili  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife.  She  had 
written  home,  and  now  she  waited  for  her 
friend's  advice.  What  could  he  say?  He 
had  been  the  one  who  had  done  most  to  en- 
courage her  in  her  art  up  to  this  point,  and 
now  he  thought  the  work  must  proceed. 
Immovili  could  help  her  and  he,  himself, 
could  not.  Besides,  he  had  no  assurance  that 
she  had  ever  entertained  any  feeling  but 
friendship  for  him.  He  was  too  late;  he  could 
not  woo  her  now,  so  he  simply  answered  that 
if  she  thought  she  would  be  happy  with  her 
teacher  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  help  her  to 
attain  great  success  in  her  music.  This  answer 
decided  the  matter  for  her  and  she  became 
engaged  to  the  Italian. 

She  went  home  for  a  few  weeks  to  visit  her 
people.  Soon  after  her  return  the  wedding 
occurred.  Hereford  heard  her  take  the  mar- 
riage vows.  Later  he  saw  her  again  at  the 
train,  and  there  they  parted.  The  last  word 
"good-bye"  was  spoken,  weighted  with  the 
sorrow  of  parting,  and  the  train  sped  on. 

The  bride  and  groom  were  to  sail  for 
76 


CLOSING  OF  THE  CABIN  SCHOOL 

Italy.  "Out  into  the  great  world  she  is 
going,"  sighed  Hereford,  "lost,  lost,  to  me 
forever!" 

The  days  wore  on,  as  days  are  wont  to  do, 
in  spite  of  lonely  hearts.  Hereford  battled 
with  his  feelings,  as  he  tried  to  banish  the 
thoughts  which  she  had  awakened.  She  be- 
longed to  another  now  and  he  had  no  right 
to  love  her.  Still  the  past  returned  like  a 
haunting  dream.  He  could  endure  it  no  long- 
er; he  must  leave  the  city.  He  would  return 
to  his  old  home  and  resume  the  work  in  his 
father's  store,  and  with  Agnes  live  out  his 
life  with  his  parents.  Again  he  thought  that 
he  would  stay  where  he  was  and  live  it  down. 
As  these  conflicting  purposes  flooded  his  mind 
he  grew  nervous,  and  breaking  away  from 
work  he  strode  one  evening  at  a  rapid  pace 
toward  Capitol  Hill;  but  the  place  had  lost 
its  charm,  and  he  soon  wandered  back  to  his 
room. 

The  postman  had  left  a  letter  for  him  and 
he  was  both  gladdened  and  diverted,  for  it 
bore  the  postmark  "Sunledge."  It  was  from 
Agnes  and  ran  as  follows: 

"Dear  Brother  Hereford: 

Please  arrange  to  spend  your  vacation  at 
77 


HEREFORD 

home,  and  get  the  time  extended  if  possible. 
I  have  news  for  you.  What  do  you  say  to 
having  a  brother,  and  that  brother  a  certain 
minister?  I  am  not  joking.  You  know  we 
have  been  without  a  pastor  for  a  long  time, 
and  that  Mr.  Griswold  has  often  supplied 
our  pulpit.  He  pleased  the  church  people  so 
much  that  they  gave  him  a  call,  which  he  ac- 
cepted. Then  he  gave  me  a  call,  and  I,  too, 
accepted.  He  tells  me  now  that  he  has  had 
me  in  mind  ever  since  the  first  night  he  stayed 
at  our  house.  I  know  that  you  are  already 
fond  of  him,  so  I  have  no  need  to  ask  your 
advice.  We  are  to  live  in  the  parsonage. 
There  is  much  to  be  done  and  we  need  you  to 
assist;  you  are  always  so  helpful.  Mother  is 
very  much  excited,  she  could  not  believe  it  at 
first,  while  father  said  with  a  sigh:  'I  suppose 
I've  got  to  go  to  church  more  now.'  But  ex- 
cept for  this  reason  I  know  that  he  is  pleased 
with  my  engagement,  for  he  has  always  liked 
Mr.  Griswold. 

Come  home,  dear,  just  as  soon  as  you  can 
make  arrangements. 

Ever  your  loving  sister, 

Agnes." 

This  news  was  very  unexpected  to  Here- 
78 


ford,  for  he  had  never  thought  of  any  at- 
tachment between  the  minister  and  his  sister. 
It  was  perfectly  satisfactory  to  him,  however, 
that  his  old  friend  should  be  the  favored 
man,  if  his  sister  must  marry. 

Hereford  decided  at  once  to  leave  Rich- 
mond. He  called  on  Mrs.  Barton  and  told 
her  of  his  sister's  expected  wedding,  and  that 
he  was  going  home  to  stay.  She  expressed 
regret  that  he  was  to  leave  her  city,  but  did 
not  suspect  the  real  reason.  In  less  than  a 
week  he  arrived  at  Sunledge,  and  great  was 
the  rejoicing  at  the  reunion.  Neighbors  ran 
in  for  a  friendly  chat.  The  village  girls  made 
unimportant  errands  or  came  to  offer  Agnes 
assistance.  Some  lingered  after  they  had 
risen  to  go  and  giggled  at  every  trifling  re- 
mark, trying  very  hard  to  be  interesting. 

"Law  sakes!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Houtman, 
after  the  last  of  a  group  had  finally  gone. 
"I  do  wish  Jane  Fox  wouldn't  stay  so;  she 
makes  me  nervous,  particularly  now  when  I 
have  so  much  to  do." 

"What  can  I  do,  ma,  to  help,"  said  Here- 
ford. 

"Well,  first,"  answered  his  mother, 
"there's  a  door  knob  to  be  fixed  in  the  east 
79 


HEREFORD 

room ;  then  there's  two  doors  to  ease  up,  they 
bother  so  about  sticking,  and  there's  the  old 
rooster  to  kill.  I've  been  trying  to  get  your 
father  to  do  it  for  some  time,  but  if  I  ask  him 
at  night,  he  says,  'wait  till  morning,'  and  if  I 
ask  him  in  the  morning,  he  says,  'wait  till 
night.'  I'd  have  killed  the  creature  myself  if 
he'd  been  a  hen,  but  his  spurs  are  so  large  and 
he  is  very  cross." 

"Well,  ma,  his  time  has  come  now,"  said 
Hereford,  "if  I  haven't  forgotten  how  to  do 
a  little  homely  work,"  and  he  went  toward 
the  hen  yard  whistling. 

The  busy  days  passed  rapidly  and  everyone 
about  Hereford  seemed  jolly  and  contented, 
while  he,  himself,  was  doing  his  utmost  to  re- 
gain his  good  spirits. 
******* 

After  the  wedding  was  over,  and  the  usual 
excitement  attending  such  occasions  had  sub- 
sided, Hereford  settled  down  for  a  while  to 
hard  work  in  the  garden  and  at  the  store. 

Sometimes  his  former  life  among  the  moun- 
taineers now  appeared  to  him  like  a  dream. 
It  seemed  so  long  since  he  started  out  on  that 
pilgrimage.  Then  the  little  cabin  school  arose 
before  his  vision,  the  streets  of  Richmond, 
80 


CLOSING  OF  THE  CABIN  SCHOOL 

the  beautiful  James  river,  the  church,  the 
bride  who  had  emerged  from  it,  the  cars,  the 
last  word,  and  the  longing  and  yearning 
would  return  for  the  face  which  he  might 
never  see  again. 

How  many  of  us  have  not  experienced 
moments  when  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  wholly 
broken  with  the  past,  and  the  future  appeared 
a  blank  before  us,  stretching  out  into  illimit- 
able wastes.  Who  has  not  felt,  too,  the  for- 
lornness  of  such  a  mood. 

Many  tell  us  now  that  the  way  to  overcome 
depression  is  to  gain  a  mastery  over  the  will 
and  think  ourselves  into  a  better  condition  of 
mind.  We  know  that  there  are  some  who 
attain  great  mental  heights,  where  the  inner 
self  rests  wholly  submissive  to  the  Divine 
will,  every  trial  being  regarded  by  such  as 
necessary  to  their  higher  development. 

Hereford  realized  that  life  is  really  too 
full  of  opportunity  to  waste  time  in  regret. 
Each  has  his  important  work  to  do.  There 
are  evils  against  which  we  must  use  our  influ- 
ence, some  of  which  have  slowly  and  stealth- 
ily crept  into  society,  but  they  are  there  never- 
theless. 

We  are  ever  ready  to  denounce  that  infa- 
81 


HEREFORD 

mous  gaming  saloon  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  yet 
how  many  people  sanction  gambling  in  the  so- 
cial circle.  We  call  the  evil  by  its  real  name, 
for  then  only  can  its  nature  be  defined,  and  no 
one  be  deceived. 

The  Bucket  Shop,  or  speculation  on  mar- 
gins, was  only  another  species  of  gam- 
bling, where  men  and  women  went  down  to 
ruin  by  the  score.  Recent  legislation  has 
made  some  attempt  to  check  the  business,  but 
the  gigantic  scheme  will  not  be  abolished  un- 
til margin  purchases  cease  to  be  lawful. 

Besides  these  evils  is  the  appalling  influ- 
ence of  the  social  drink.  Oh !  that  all  would 
banish  the  wine  cup  from  their  tables  and 
from  all  social  functions,  and  be  brave  enough 
to  come  out  on  the  side  of  sobriety,  that  the 
curse  of  strong  drink  may  not  descend  as  an 
awful  inheritance  upon  their  children.  In 
close  proximity  to  the  ancestral  line  so  often 
flows  the  river  of  moral  death! 

If  women  fully  realized  their  great  power 
to  influence,  they  would  strive  for  a  high 
ideal  of  Christian  womanhood.  They  should 
indeed  be  shining  lights  and  so  be  helpful  to 
men,  who  have  more  temptations  in  life  than 
they. 

82 


CLOSING  OF  THE  CABIN  SCHOOL 

The  soul  should  grow  strong  to  resist,  for 
its  strength  is  needed  to  help  dethrone  evil, 
and  the  good  which  will  finally  be  achieved 
will  tell  on  ages,  for  humanity  and  God. 


VI 

Retrospection 

DURING  the  three  years  after  the 
marriage  of  his  sister  Agnes, 
Hereford  found  himself  grad- 
ually rising  in  his  profession. 
He  had  not  been  at  home  very 
long    when     his     active,    ambitious     nature 
prompted  him  to  obtain  a  position  on  a  Scran- 
ton  newspaper.     He  had  also  done  some  lec- 
turing among  the  miners,  desiring  always  to 
be  helpful  and  uplifting  in  his  influence.     He 
made  frequent  visits  home,  where  he  spent 
most  of  his  Sundays,  much  to  the  delight  of 
his  mother  and  the  rest  of  the  family. 

There  was  now  a  little  boy  at  the  parson- 
age in  Sunledge,  who  was  just  beginning  to 
walk;  they  called  him  Justin. 

Nearly  every  pleasant  day  Agnes  wheeled 
the  baby  in  his  carriage  to  her  parents'  home. 
One  day  after  she  had  visited  them  and  had 
returned  to  her  own  home,  Peter  Houtman 
was  aroused  from  his  newspaper,  over  which 
he  was  partially  dozing,  by  his  wife's  excla- 
mation : 

85 


HEREFORD 

"Law  sakes !  I  guess  it  pays  to  be  connect- 
ed with  a  good  substantial  church.  If  we'd 
been  off  'tending  Advent  meetings  like  Sister 
Susan,  we  shouldn't  have  a  minister  in 
the  family,  and  if  their  boy  lives  he'll  most 
likely  be  one,  too !" 

"As  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Houtman,  after 
some  reflection,  "I  don't  know  as  I  want  the 
boy  to  be  a  minister.  I  guess  that  one  is 
enough  in  a  family;  not  but  that  I  like  the 
parson,  but  I  want  the  boy  to  be  a  business 
man.  There's  more  tin  in  business,  wife, 
more  tin,  and  that's  what  is  needed  in  these 
times  to  make  things  go.  I  really  don't  see 
that  Hereford  has  gained  much  by  leaving 
the  ranks  of  business.  Sometimes  I  think  that 
he  feels  the  same  about  it.  I  often  notice  a 
sad,  disappointed  look  on  his  face  when  he 
is  lost  in  thought." 

"Law  sakes  Peter!  you  just  imagine  that. 
You  know  that  you  are  a  little  inclined  to  the 
hypo,"  answered  Mrs.  Houtman. 

"I  don't  see  any  hypo  about  that.  You  al- 
ways think  that  I've  got  the  hypo  if  I  don't 
think  the  same  as  you  do,"  said  Peter,  slight- 
ly irritated. 

"Law  sakes  Peter!  how  you  talk.  I  don't 
86 


RETROSPECTION 

expect  you  always  to  think  as  I  do,  but  I'm 
sure  Hereford  always  seems  very  cheerful  to 
me,"  replied  the  other.  Just  then  there  was 
a  knock  at  the  door  and  their  conversation 
was  interrupted.  As  the  caller  entered,  Mr. 
Houtman  retreated  from  the  back  door  and 
turned  his  steps  toward  his  store. 

Hereford  heard  from  Luther  occasionally 
and  his  letters  contained  glowing  reports 
from  Ruth.  Her  strong  Huguenot  inherit- 
ance was  asserting  itself.  She  and  her  hus- 
band had  been  very  successful  in  their  music. 
She  had  sent  money  home,  enough  in  fact  to 
build  a  new  and  larger  house  for  her  parents, 
with  full  directions  and  plans  for  building  it. 

The  last  accounts  were  that  the  house  was 
completed  and  that  her  people  were  moving 
into  it.  They  had  a  stove  in  the  hall  and 
either  a  fireplace  or  grate  in  each  of  the  other 
rooms.  So  they  expected  to  be  very  com- 
fortable when  the  cold  winds  blew  from  the 
north. 

Ruth  was  to  come  home  for  a  few  months' 
rest,  while  her  husband  was  to  open  a  studio 
in  Richmond,  where  she  would  eventually  as- 
sist him. 

Luther  also  wrote  that  he  was  making  im- 
87 


HEREFORD 

provements  in  the  old  home,  and  as  soon  as 
they  were  completed  he  should  marry  and 
take  his  bride  there  to  live. 

"I  wrote  you,"  the  letter  continued,  "that 
Sam  married  soon  after  you  left.  I  forgot 
your  request  to  write  you  the  particulars. 
Well,  this  is  the  story.  Sam's  girl  was  about 
thirty-two  years  old  and  lived  in  Pineboro,  a 
few  miles  distant.  She  had  been  left  with  a 
large  farm  and  was  obliged  to  depend  wholly 
upon  help  to  manage  it.  Sam  had  heard  that 
this  girl  had  a  good  stock  of  hens  and  he 
wanted  to  get  some  good  eggs  for  setting,  so 
he  took  a  trip  over  there  and  procured  the 
eggs.  In  about  a  week  he  reckoned  he  want- 
ed more  eggs,  so  he  made  another  journey  to 
the  home  of  this  fair  maid.  She  evidently 
had  plenty  of  eggs  to  spare,  and,  besides,  she 
put  a  little  pig  in  a  basket  and  insisted  that  he 
should  accept  it  for  good  luck.  He  came 
home  very  proud,  of  course,  and  soon  made 
another  trip  to  see  her.  Well,  to  make  a 
short  story,  they  both  came  to  the  conclusion 
very  suddenly  that  they  were  willing  to  close 
a  bargain.  Sally  said  (and  I  suppose  she 
knows)  'that  Sam  had  an  eye  to  the  gal's 
good  farm,  and  the  gal  needed  Sam  to  look 
88 


RETROSPECTION 

after  the  work;  so  she  reckoned  it  was  a 
pretty  good  match  if  the  gal  could  fancy  sech 
a  man.' 

"You  see  it  looks  like  she  didn't  give  them 
credit  for  any  romantic  or  poetic  thought 
about  the  matter;  at  any  rate,  in  a  short  time 
Sam  bought  a  black  suit  of  clothes  and  the 
young  lady  bought  a  new  dress  and  hat  and 
off  they  drove  to  the  minister's  house  and  were 
quietly  married.  Then  they  returned  to  her 
home,  where  they  now  live." 

Another  letter  from  Luther  soon  followed 
this  bit  of  gossip.  Hereford  wondered  at 
hearing  from  him  again  so  soon  and  went  to 
his  room,  where  he  could  be  alone  to  open  it. 
He  unfolded  the  enclosed  sheet  and  read  the 
startling  news  of  Immovili's  death. 

He  became  almost  dazed  as  his  eyes  fol- 
lowed the  lines.  His  hands  grew  cold,  his 
body  swayed,  the  letter  dropped  to  the  floor. 
He  had  never  before  come  so  near  fainting  in 
all  his  life.  After  a  few  half  unconscious 
moments  he  rallied,  and  picking  up  the  letter, 
he  resumed  reading : 

"Ruth  and  her  husband  were  all  ready  for 
their  journey  home,  when  Immovili  was  taken 
suddenly  ill,  and  lived  but  two  days.  His 
89 


HEREFORD 

mother,  who  resided  in  Dorsetshire,  Eng- 
land, was  notified  and  his  remains  were  taken 
to  her  home,  accompanied  by  Ruth,  and  he 
was  buried  in  the  family  lot.  Ruth  is  to  sail 
for  America  as  soon  as  possible." 

Hereford  thought  of  her  being  all  alone 
in  her  sorrow,  so  far  away  from  home,  with 
the  great  ocean  lying  between  them.  The 
voyage  would  be  so  tedious  to  one  who  was 
longing  for  the  first  glimpse  of  home  and  the 
dear  ones  anxiously  awaiting  her  there. 

When  her  life  was  bright  with  happiness 
and  prosperity,  Hereford  had  grown  recon- 
ciled to  their  separation.  But  now  when 
trouble  had  met  her  in  life's  journey  he  was 
deeply  moved,  and  reproached  himself 
severely  for  having  interfered  with  the  peace- 
ful current  of  her  life  in  her  mountain  home. 
She  was  happy  there,  a  child  of  nature,  and 
sang  as  sang  the  birds  for  very  joy.  Now 
she  was  bereft  of  her  husband,  who  had  been 
her  teacher,  inspiration  and  guiding  star,  and 
her  musical  career  could  hardly  be  a  success 
without  him. 

Just  previous  to  the  receipt  of  his  very  im- 
portant letter  Hereford  had  changed  his 
lodging-place  to  the  home  of  Mrs.  Peerly,  a 
90 


RETROSPECTION 

widow.     He  was  her  only  boarder,  but  her 
front  rooms  were  let  to  lodgers. 

This  woman  had  a  son  in  business  and  an 
only  daughter  Fanny,  who  assisted  her 
mother  in  the  household  duties. 

This  girl  possessed  a  bright,  genial  dispo- 
sition, and  often  tried  to  draw  her  new  board- 
er out  in  conversation,  but  she  found  it  quite 
difficult. 

"He's  an  old  glum,"  she  said  one  day  to 
her  brother.  "I  can't  make  him  even  look  at 
me,  and  I  know  I'm  not  bad  looking,  am  I, 
Ned?" 

"Oh,  now!  you  just  want  a  compliment," 
replied  the  other. 

"No,"  said  Fanny,  "but,  say,  Ned,  we'll 
find  out  where  he  goes  to  church,  and  ask  him 
to  go  to  ours  sometime." 

"All  right,  Fan,  I  will.  He  seems  to 
be  a  mighty  nice  fellow,  and  he  must  get 
lonely  sometimes  away  from  home  and 
friends.  So  it  happened  later  that  Hereford 
consented  one  Sunday  to  accompany  them  to 
the  evening  service.  They  did  not  have  his 
company  regularly,  however,  because  he  was 
often  either  at  home  or  lecturing  among  the 
miners  on  Sunday. 

91 


HEREFORD 

When  he  was  in  Scranton  he  went  with 
these  people  to  their  church,  and  sometimes 
to  walk,  or  occasionally  during  the  week  to 
some  place  of  amusement. 

The  young  journalist  felt  a  growing  inter- 
est in  his  work  and  surroundings,  for  he  was 
living  in  a  large  and  busy  city.  Its  collieries, 
iron  manufactories,  and  trade  in  mining  sup- 
plies, brought  it  prosperity.  Still  in  spite  of 
the  fine  residences  and  great  public  buildings, 
the  general  appearance  of  the  city  was  som- 
ber, and  it  never  could  seem  as  attractive  to 
him  as  Richmond. 


92 


VII 

Mrs.  Houtman  and  the  Thieving  Dog 

AS  Hereford  entered  the  house  on 
one  of  his  flying  visits  home  he 
heard  his  mother  talking  in  a 
very  excited  manner.  "Peter," 
she  said,  "you  must  shut  the 
bulkhead  door  after  you  when  you  use  it." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  now,"  said  her 
husband,  as  he  observed  her  excitement. 
"Dogs!"  she  answered. 
"Dogs?"  repeated  her  husband. 
"Yes,  dogs!"  gasped  she,  "they  get  in  the 
cellar.     A  great  black  dog  got  in  the  cellar 
to-day   and   carried   off   that   ham   you   sent 
home.     We  hadn't  cut  but  three  slices  from 
it.     I  heard  a  noise  down  there,  and,  as  I 
chanced  to  glance  out  of  the  window,  I  saw 
that  creature  running  from  the  yard  with  that 
great  ham  in  his  mouth.     I  shouted  at  him 
and  called  him  a  thief  and  a  wretch,  but  still 
he   ran,   and   I   chased   after   him   with   the 
broom.     I  should  have  struck  him  with  all 
my  might,  but  I  couldn't  catch  up  with  him. 
93 

T 


HEREFORD 

It  was  an  exciting  chase,  but  the  dog  beat." 

Mrs.  Houtman  laughed  until  tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks,  and  her  husband  and  son 
joined  her  out  of  sheer  sympathy.  As  soon 
as  she  could  control  herself  sufficiently  to  con- 
tinue her  narrative  she  said,  "That  ain't  all; 
when  I  turned  homeward  I  cast  my  eye 
around  to  see  if  anyone  was  in  sight,  and,  see- 
ing no  one,  I  went  through  Pleasant  Street 
to  make  a  short  cut,  and  there  I  met  Agnes 
walking  out  with  one  of  her  most  fashionable 
parishioners,  Mrs.  Fessendon.  Well,  if  I 
ever,  goodness  me,  no,  I  never  did  in  all  my 
life  feel  so  cheap;  I  could  have  sunk  through 
the  earth.  I  was  dressed  in  my  old  calico 
dress,  my  hair  was  loose  and  stray  locks  were 
flying  in  the  breeze.  I  had  the  broom  in  my 
hand  and  was  walking  at  a  rapid  pace.  Agnes 
looked  surprised  and  shocked  as  we  met,  and 
exclaimed,  'Why  mother!'  while  I  faintly 
gasped,  'Law  sakes !'  and  I  guess  that's  about 
all  we  did  say,  for  I  edged  away,  at  any  rate, 
just  as  soon  as  I  could,  and  I've  hardly  got 
my  senses  back  yet.  So,  mind  you,  shut  that 
door  after  you,  Peter,  for  I  don't  want  all 
the  dogs  in  town  in  my  cellar.  I  don't  care  so 
much  about  the  loss  of  the  ham,  as  I  do  about 
94 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

meeting  Mrs.  Fessendon.  I  snum  that  was 
too  much." 

"It's  too  bad,"  said  Mr.  Houtman,  still 
laughing,  "but  I  guess  that  it  won't  hurt  Mrs. 
Fessendon  to  see  a  woman  with  a  broom." 

"Well,  I  suppose  not,"  replied  the  wife, 
"but  women  are  not  expected  to  promenade 
the  streets  with  brooms  in  their  hands." 

"Well,"  said  her  husband,  "you  ought  to 
have  told  them  you  were  getting  ready  for  a 
broom  drill." 

"I  hadn't  wit  enough,  you  see,  for  that, 
Peter,"  answered  his  wife,  quite  exhausted 
after  her  story. 

When  Mrs.  Houtman  had  a  direct  mes- 
sage to  deliver,  or  in  general  conversation, 
she  always  called  her  husband  Peter.  If, 
however,  she  wanted  a  special  favor,  as,  for 
instance,  some  money  for  shopping,  she  in- 
variably called  him  "Pa."  She  probably  re- 
ceived a  larger  sum  in  consequence.  It  doubt- 
less created  a  fatherly  feeling  and  relaxed  his 
purse  strings.  But  it  cannot  be  vouched  for 
as  a  fact  that  she  did  it  for  that  purpose;  in 
truth,  such  a  course  was  not  at  all  necessary 
in  her  case,  but  habits  sometimes  unconscious- 
ly form  themselves,  and  we  often  do  things 
95 


HEREFORD 

thus  and  so,  we  know  not  why,  only  that  it  is 
our  way. 

Shortly  after  this  visit  Hereford  learned 
that  another  mountaineer,  a  little  girl,  had 
wakened  into  life.  Ruth  had  become  a 
mother.  She  was  to  remain  at  home  a  year, 
then  she  intended  to  go  to  Richmond  and  take 
up  once  more  her  residence  with  Mrs.  Barton, 
with  the  thought  of  teaching  music  and  ob- 
taining a  position  as  church  soloist.  She  felt 
that  she  must  make  good  use  of  her  time,  as 
her  husband  had  left  her  but  little  money, 
and  now  she  had  a  child  to  rear  and  educate. 

The  little  one,  whom  they  named  Tessina, 
was  the  object  of  much  admiration  and  special 
interest,  because  she  was  a  posthumous  child. 
Many  made  long  journeys  to  see  her.  Some 
distant  relatives  and  old  friends  journeyed 
forty  or  fifty  miles  in  their  mountain  wagons, 
camping  out  on  the  way  at  night,  as  is  the 
custom  of  those  living  in  remote  localities 
when  they  go  to  cities  to  trade.  Others  came 
on  horseback,  some  out  of  mere  curiosity, 
having  heard  of  Ruth's  strange  marriage  and 
wonderful  experience. 

And  Sally  thought  the  child  was  sent  on 
purpose  to  amuse  her.  She  visited  her  nearly 
96 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

every  day,  and  was  helpful  in  many  ways. 

When  October  came  Ruth  took  her  little 
daughter  and  went  to  Richmond,  as  she  had 
planned.  Mrs.  Barton  received  her  with 
open  arms.  In  a  few  days  the  young  mother 
procured  the  services  of  a  nurse  maid.  She 
was  a  colored  woman,  between  thirty-five  and 
forty  years  of  age,  whom  they  called  Judy. 
Her  friends  said  that  she  married  young  and 
was  soon  deserted  by  her  unprincipled  hus- 
band, and  that  he  had  soon  after  left  the  state 
and  she  had  never  seen  him  since.  However 
that  may  be,  this  servant  proved  very  faithful 
to  Tessina,  so  Ruth  was  soon  ready  to  take  up 
her  teaching. 

She  readily  found  pupils.  Mrs.  Barton 
was  widely  known  and  her  friends  took  a 
great  interest  in  Ruth,  and  little  Tessina  was 
fast  winning  her  way.  Judy,  too,  grew  very 
fond  of  her  charge.  People  often  stopped 
her  on  the  street  when  she  was  wheeling  the 
child  to  admire  the  little  lady,  and  when 
strangers  spoke  to  Judy  she  always  hastened 
to  inform  them  that  the  child  was  half  Italian 
and  half  mountaineer.  This  uncommon  alli- 
ance at  once  excited  curiosity,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  questions,  but  Judy  was  always 
97 


HEREFORD 

equal  to  the  occasion  and  soon  had  her  inter- 
esting story  all  by  heart. 

April  came  at  length  bringing  warmer 
days.  The  winter  in  Scranton  had  been  long 
and  tedious.  Everybody  had  grown  so  weary 
of  it  and  the  ground  was  still  covered  with 
snow.  It  was  rapidly  melting,  however, 
where  the  sun  shone  upon  it.  People  longed 
to  see  bare  ground  once  more,  and  no  one, 
perhaps,  more  earnestly  than  did  Hereford. 

Instinctively  his  thoughts  often  wandered 
back  to  Richmond,  and  one  day  he  was  seized 
with  an  irresistible  longing  for  warmer  skies, 
the  deep  blue  skies  which  he  had  so  loved. 

With  these  thoughts  in  mind  he  determined 
to  visit  that  city.  He  took  the  train  on  the 
following  day  for  Richmond.  On  arriving 
there  he  hired  a  room  at  a  hotel.  The  next 
day  was  Sunday.  He  took  an  early  walk 
about  the  city  and  out  in  the  rural  parts,  but 
returned  in  time  for  church. 

He  knew  the  church  where  Ruth  was  en- 
gaged as  a  soloist,  and  he  had  a  great  desire 
to  hear  her  sing  before  he  spoke  with  her. 

He  entered  the  church  during  the  playing 
of  the  voluntary  and  took  a  rear  seat. 

When  Ruth  arose  to  sing  her  solo,  every 
98 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

eye  was  directed  toward  her.  Calm  and  love- 
ly she  looked  as  she  stood  there,  and  when  the 
clear,  birdlike  notes  of  Gounod's  "The  Peace 
of  God,"  rang  out  upon  the  stillness,  many 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

After  the  service  was  over,  Hereford 
waited  to  see  his  friends.  He  met  Mrs.  Bar- 
ton first,  and  then  he  stood,  face  to  face,  with 
Ruth.  Their  emotion  was  too  deep  for  speech, 
although  each  stammered  some  word  of  greet- 
ing as  they  passed  out  of  the  church. 

He  was  invited  to  their  home  to  dinner  and 
there  he  was  soon  introduced  to  the  little 
Tessina. 

The  child  had  large  black  eyes,  and  dark 
curly  hair,  and  was  in  features  a  typical  little 
Italian. 

Hereford  called  nearly  every  day,  and 
Ruth  and  he  walked  or  drove  out  into  the 
country  on  many  a  pleasant  afternoon.  Each 
seemed  to  feel  a  keen  sense  of  pleasure  as 
they  found  themselves  side  by  side  as  in  the 
old  days  at  Glenburg. 

The  days  passed  swiftly  and  Hereford's 

vacation  was  nearly  over.     On  the  afternoon 

before  the  time  expired  they  walked  across 

one   of   the   bridges  which  span  the   James 

99 


HEREFORD 

River.  They  both  looked  down  upon  the 
turbulent  waters  as  they  dashed  against  the 
boulders.  It  was  a  wild,  but  interesting  sight, 
and  both  felt  impressed  by  the  scene.  For 
some  minutes  they  were  wrapped  in  silence, 
which  he  was  the  first  to  break.  "I  shall  be 
very  lonely,  Ruth,  when  I  go  back  to  Scran- 
ton."  She  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  off  into 
the  distance  and  answered  with  a  hesitating 
voice,  "So  shall  I." 

Then  they  wandered  off  toward  the  hills, 
and  finding  a  quiet  spot  under  a  clump  of 
pines,  they  sat  down  to  rest.  Their  conversa- 
tion since  they  left  the  river  had  been  of  a 
desultory  nature,  but  at  length  Hereford  re- 
sumed his  former  tone  of  seriousness. 

"I  shall  miss  you,  Ruth;  in  fact,  my  life  will 
never  be  complete  unless  you  will  consent  to 
be  my  wife." 

"You  forget,  dear  friend,"  she  replied, 
"that  I  am  a  mother,  and  have  my  sacred  ma- 
ternal duties  to  perform.  Somehow  I  fear  I 
could  not  be  as  faithful  to  my  little  child  if  I 
married  again." 

"I  think  you  could,"  responded  Hereford. 
"I  feel  sure  your  child  would  gain  by  it,  for  I 
promise  that  I  would  faithfully  perform  my 
100 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

duty  as  her  protector.  You  are  safe  in  trust- 
ing me,  Ruth." 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "I  know  well  your 
sterling  qualities,  but  it  is  so  soon  for  me  to 
think  of  marriage  after " 

"I  know,"  he  interrupted,  "but  I'm  not  a 
stranger." 

"No,"  said  she,  "and  I  owe  you  so  much 
gratitude.  You  have  been  a  good  friend  not 
only  to  me,  but  to  all  my  family.  If  my  con- 
sent to  be  your  wife  will  make  you  happy,  you 
shall  have  it,  and  have  it  now.  I  will  not 
keep  you  waiting." 

The  day  was  fading;  lower  sank  the  sun; 
the  night  was  coming  on,  night  which  whis- 
pers of  peace  on  earth;  night  which  also  tells 
of  life  in  the  far  heavens.  The  mocking  birds 
sang,  the  crickets  chirped  and  innumerable 
little  insect  voices  drowsily  hummed  their 
sweet  refrain.  Ruth  and  Hereford  sat  with 
clasped  hands,  while  their  hearts  swelled  with 
gratitude  to  God  for  all  His  gifts  to  men,  and 
His  best  gift,  love,  for  sweet  was  the  blessed 
love  that  came  into  their  lives  that  night  and 
made  them  both  so  happy.  They  were  un- 
heedful  of  the  flight  of  time,  but  finally  saun- 
tered homeward.  Before  Hereford  slept  that 
101 


HEREFORD 

night  he  had  the  joy  of  seeing  the  betrothal 
ring  upon  Ruth's  finger. 

They  talked  of  future  plans  late  into  the 
night.  "Shall  I  have  to  go  to  Scranton  to 
live?"  she  inquired,  as  a  little  cloud  uncon- 
sciously gathered  over  her  brow. 

uNot  if  you  prefer  this  city,"  he  answered. 

"I  do  prefer  this  place  to  any  other  in  the 
world,"  she  answered.  "You  see  traditions 
of  ancestry  still  center  about  me;  it  is  hard  to 
leave  for  new  regions  where  new  friendships 
must  be  formed  with  people  who  would  differ 
from  me  in  many  ways." 

Hereford  could  easily  see  that  she  dreaded 
the  thought  of  new  fields,  so  he  said,  "I  will 
find  business  here."  So  it  was  decided  that 
they  should  make  their  future  home  in  Rich- 
mond. 

Hereford  returned  to  Scranton  the  follow- 
ing day,  when,  through  the  intricate  workings 
of  fate,  he  was  again  forced  to  change  his 
course.  He  bade  his  city  friends  farewell  and 
left  for  home.  He  longed  to  see  his  people 
and  tell  them  of  his  new,  sweet  happiness. 

He  overtook  Agnes,  who  was  on  her  way 
home  from  some  parish  call.     In  a  moment 
his  strong  arms  were  about  her. 
102 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

"Why,  Hereford!"  she  exclaimed,  "where 
did  you  come  from,  and  what  has  happened? 
You  look  so  wild  and  hardly  seem  like  my 
usually  quiet  brother." 

Then  he  affectionately  drew  her  arm  with- 
in his  and  as  they  walked  he  told  her  his 
strange  story.  Agnes  looked  up  into  her 
brother's  face  with  tear  bedimmed  eyes.  She 
could  find  no  words  to  utter,  so  he  continued, 
"You  will  very  soon  have  a  sister  and  a  niece, 
the  little  Tessina,  whom  you  will  love  at 
sight." 

This  news  made  Agnes  very  happy,  for  she 
had  often  feared  her  brother  might  never 
marry.  She  had  half  suspected  that  he  had 
experienced  some  great  disappointment,  but 
she  had  never  questioned  him,  although  she 
wondered  why  he  kept  it  from  her. 

They  stopped  at  the  parsonage  to  find  the 
minister,  then  they  all  went  to  Peter  Hout- 
man's  home.  When  Mr.Houtman  first  learned 
the  news  he  said  "Sho !"  He  had  been  sitting 
quietly  with  his  legs  crossed,  but  simultaneous- 
ly with  the  exclamation  "sho  !"  down  went  his 
number  tens  solidly  upon  the  floor;  then  up  he 
sprang  and  went  to  the  window  and  peered 
out.  There  was  nothing  in  the  world  to  see, 
103 


HEREFORD 

for  that  window  looked  out  upon  the  kitchen 
garden,  and  nothing  but  dried  stocks  thrust- 
ing through  the  melting  snow  could  be  seen. 
Still  he  gazed,  but  no  other  word  escaped  from 
his  lips,  and  whatever  he  meant  by  "sho!" 
was  left  for  his  hearers  to  conjecture. 

Mrs.  Houtman,  however,  was  more  talka- 
tive. "Law  sakes!"  she  exclaimed,  "this  is  a 
surprise.  I  did  so  hope  that  you  would  come 
back  to  Sunledge  to  live  and  marry  one  of  our 
town  girls;  then  we  could  all  neighbor  to- 
gether and  have  such  nice  times.  Well,  this 
beats  all,  I  snum,  it  does  indeed."  "Snum" 
was  a  word  which  she  was  now  allowed  to 
use  without  chiding.  It  was  a  word  which 
she  depended  upon  to  express  great  emotion. 
Agnes  knew  this,  so  she  kept  silent,  though  she 
had  often  before  asked  her  not  to  use  it. 

The  village  folks  soon  learned  the  news, 
for  such  news  generally  spreads  rapidly  in  a 
small  place,  no  matter  how  quiet  one  tries  to 
keep  it,  and  after  it  finds  its  way  to  the  gro- 
cery store,  no  newspapers  are  needed  to  make 
further  announcements. 

There  was  quite  a  little  celebration  one 
way  and  another,  mingled,  however,  with  re- 
grets that  Hereford  was  to  settle  so  far  away. 
104 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

For  he  had  many  friends  in  that  little  village. 

In  a  few  days  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
place  which  was  to  be  his  home.  After  a  few 
days  of  househunting  they  decided  upon  a 
comfortable  cottage  half  a  mile  beyond  the 
city.  This  they  furnished  simply. 

After  all  was  in  readiness,  they  were  quiet- 
ly married,  and  with  the  assistance  of  Judy, 
began  their  housekeeping. 

They  planted  more  shrubs  about  the  place 
and  laid  out  little  flower  beds,  while  in  the 
rear  of  the  house  was  made  the  kitchen  gar- 
den. The  time  passed  rapidly  and  July  was 
near  at  hand  with  its  usual  heat.  When  it  had 
arrived  they  closed  their  little  home  and  jour- 
neyed to  Glenburg,  where  they  planned  to  re- 
main until  October.  Their  vacation  days  were 
filled  with  delight.  Sally  came  often  to  see 
Tessina  and  did  not  forget  to  remain  to  "see 
them  eat." 

The  Hathorns  took  them  one  day  to  see 
Sam  and  pay  their  respects  to  his  wife  and  lit- 
tle son,  who  was  an  interesting  child  and  look- 
ed like  his  mother.  Sam's  wife  was  a  robust, 
good-natured  woman,  and  manifested  much 
pleasure  in  meeting  her  visitors.  Sam  was 
still  lank  and  angular,  but  his  face  beamed 
105 


HEREFORD 

with  delight  as  he  showed  his  friends  about 
the  place. 

During  the  drive  home  it  was  remarked 
that  it  was  no  wonder  that  Sam  once  upon  a 
time  went  there  often  for  eggs.  Then  they 
all  agreed  that  it  was  a  pretty  good  match, 
and  Sam  was  a  fortunate  fellow.  They  told 
stories  the  remainder  of  the  way  and  had  a 
merry  time.  When  they  reached  home,  they 
found  Sally  sitting  on  the  steps  waiting  for 
them.  She  meant  to  be  on  hand  that  night, 
of  all  nights,  to  hear  the  news. 

Hereford  returned  to  Richmond  in  Sep- 
tember. He  procured  a  position  on  a  news- 
paper, and  later  when  his  family  returned, 
Ruth  also  resumed  her  work  in  music.  Two 
years  of  uninterrupted  happiness  ensued,  then 
there  came  a  change  in  their  little  household 
affairs.  A  time  when  a  nurse  took  full  charge 
and  all  yielded  to  her  mandates. 

When  the  critical  time  arrived  some  of  the 
women  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  taken 
a  great  interest  in  the  coming  of  the  prospec- 
tive stranger,  gathered  on  the  back  porch  to 
be  within  calling  distance  if  anything  was 
needed.  At  length  old  Mrs.  Tubbs  came  hob- 
bling along.  She  had  a  lame  foot  and  carried 
106 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

a  cane  to  support  her  weight.  She  had  heard 
that  Mrs.  Houtman  was  ill  and  had  come  to 
see  if  she  could  be  of  any  assistance.  She  had 
been  present  on  many  such  occasions  in  her 
day,  and  was  regarded  by  some  as  being  very 
wise  and  that  she  even  knew  a  little  more  than 
the  doctor  on  some  points.  As  to  her  knowl- 
edge of  signs  she  was  a  perfect  Seer.  They  said 
that  she  could  predict  almost  anything, 
whether  it  ever  came  to  pass  or  not,  is  not  our 
purpose  to  relate.  However,  she  joined  the 
group  and  they  all  debated  as  to  the  likeli- 
hood of  the  child  being  a  boy.  One  said  that 
the  last  part  of  the  month  was  in  favor  of  a 
girl.  "I  do  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Tubbs,  "that  it 
will  get  here  before  Friday,  for  that  is  such 
an  unlucky  day ;  the  poor  thing  would  have  no 
chance  in  the  world,  and  if  born  soon  after 
midnight  on  Friday  they  say  they  are  always 
haunted  by  ghosts  and  spirits."  "Oh — . — ," 
responded  the  company  in  unison,  "I  'clar' 
wouldn't  that  be  awful,"  said  one.  "It  cert'n- 
ly  would,"  sighed  another.  "Dear  me,"  said 
the  third  one. 

The  morning  passed  and  at  noon  they  went 
home  to  lunch.    The  latter  part  of  the  after- 
noon  they  congregated   again   and   renewed 
107 


HEREFORD 

their  hopes  that  the  child  would  come  before 
Friday. 

Finally  Judy  came  running  out  wild  with 
excitement,  exclaiming : 

"It's  here;  golly  it's  here  fo'  sho!" 

"What,  the  baby?"  they  all  asked  in  one 
breath.  They  couldn't  have  recited  the  sen- 
tence better  if  they  had  practised  it  a  week. 

"Is  it  a  boy?  is  it  a  girl?"  they  eagerly 
questioned,  again  in  concert. 

"I  'clar  I  don'  know  dat,"  said  Judy.  "I 
jes  heared  dem  say  it's  landed'  an'  I  rushed 
out  here,  fo'  I  done  thought  I  should  faint." 

Then  the  cry  of  the  newly  born  child  was 
heard,  for  another  little  girl  had  come  to  live 
with  them,  and  fortunately  she  had  arrived 
before  the  woeful  Friday. 

Hereford  dreamed  that  night  of  Glenburg. 
He  dreamed  that  he  saw  Ruth  down  by  the 
spring.  Her  yellow  hair  unbraided  and  dis- 
hevelled, floated  over  her  shoulders.  Her 
hands  and  face  were  soiled  with  the  dust  of 
the  highway.  She  looked  warm  and  weary, 
as  she  sat  upon  a  stone  and  sipped  a  draught 
from  a  tin  cup  which  hung  by  the  spring. 
Then  she  bathed  her  hands  and  face  in  the 
clear,  rippling  water,  and  looked  much  re- 
108 


MRS.  HOUTMAN  AND  THE  DOG 

freshed.  She  had  no  more  than  finished  dry- 
ing her  hands  when  a  flock  of  white  pigeons 
flew  over  her,  then  lighted  by  the  side  of  the 
spring.  They,  too,  seemed  to  want  to  refresh 
themselves  with  the  cooling  water. 

They  were  not  afraid  of  her,  and  one  was 
so  tame  that  she  stroked  its  soft  wings.  Then 
the  location  changed.  Hereford  was  upon 
the  sloping  hillside  gathering  flowers  with  the 
school  children,  their  arms  were  full  of  the 
beautiful  rhododendron,  azaleas  and  moun- 
tain laurel. 

They  decked  the  school  room  and  Here- 
ford looked  around  for  Ruth,  but  she  was  not 
there.  He  inquired  of  the  children  concern- 
ing her,  but  all  answered  that  they  had  not 
seen  her. 

Then  his  dream  became  troubled  and  in- 
definite in  character.  When  he  awoke  the  sun 
was  shining  brightly,  flooding  his  room  with 
light.  He  looked  about  half  bewildered,  won- 
dering where  he  was.  Had  he  been  dream- 
ing? Then  he  arose  quickly,  and  before  he 
was  wholly  dressed  the  cry  of  the  little  one 
was  heard;  he  hastened  to  the  bedside  of  his 
wife  and  child,  scarcely  yet  realizing  his  great 
happiness. 

109 

8 


HEREFORD 

They  named  the  baby  Virginia,  after  the 
name  of  the  colony  where  the  Hathorn's  an- 
cestors first  landed. 


no 


VIII 
Hereford's  Mother  in  Richmond 

A    YEAR    has    passed    since    that 
memorable  day  when  little  Vir- 
ginia had  opened  her  eyes  upon 
the  world.     Hereford's  mother 
was  now   expected   for  a  visit. 
She  had  been  longing  especially  to  see  her 
little  granddaughter.     When  she  met  Ruth 
she  kissed  her  and  said: 

"Law,  sakes !  You  are  pretty  as  a  picture. 
How  I  long  to  hear  you  sing!"  She  then 
gathered  Tessina  in  her  arms  for  a  moment 
and  then  took  the  baby  in  her  lap.  Presently 
Judy  came  in  and  took  Virgie,  for  it  was  tea 
time.  When  Mrs.  Houtman  saw  her  she  ex- 
tended her  hand  in  a  most  cordial  and  familiar 
manner.  Judy  looked  surprised,  but  Mrs. 
Houtman  did  not  seem  to  notice  it  and  said: 
"I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  Judy.  I  don't 
know  your  last  name.  I've  heard  so  much 
about  you.  How  is  your  health?" 

"Fse   right   smart,   thank  yo',"   answered 
Judy. 

in 


HEREFORD 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Mrs.  Houtman,  smiling  with  good  nature. 

Later  Hereford  told  his  mother  that  she 
had  better  be  a  little  more  reserved  with  the 
servants,  but  she  didn't  remember  it,  for  the 
next  morning  she  insisted  upon  helping  Judy 
with  the  dishes.  Later  Ruth  took  her  sight- 
seeing. St.  John's  Church  was  pointed  out  to 
her,  where  the  Virginia  Convention  was  held 
in  1775  when  Patrick  Henry  sounded  the  dec- 
laration "Give  me  liberty,  or  give  me  death." 
The  State  Library  and  other  important  build- 
ings were  also  objects  of  deep  interest  to  Mrs. 
Houtman.  They  visited  Manchester  and 
Belle  Isle.  They  lunched  at  a  restaurant,  as 
they  found  it  more  convenient.  After  the 
colored  waiter  had  served  the  lunch  he  took 
his  place  behind  them,  as  is  the  custom  of 
waiters.  Mrs.  Houtman,  seeing  him  stand- 
ing there,  said : 

"You  had  better  go  and  sit  down.  We 
shan't  get  through  for  some  time.  I  don't 
want  to  be  hurried,  law  sakes!  because  it 
gives  me  indigestion."  He  bowed  and  smiled, 
saying  at  the  same  time,  "There  is  no  hurry, 
mam."  Then  seeing  her  look  at  him  again 
quite  sharply,  he  moved  away  and  waited  by 
112 


HEREFORD'S  MOTHER 

the  wall  at  a  little  distance. 

Ruth  said  nothing,  although  she  felt  very 
much  amused.  After  they  had  finished  their 
lunch  and  were  again  outside,  Tessina  said : 

"Grandma,  those  colored  men  always  stand 
behind  our  chairs  to  wait  on  us." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  dear,"  replied  the 
other,  "but  I  always  thought  it  was  dreadful 
impolite  to  stand  and  watch  people  eat,  and  I 
thought  I'd  just  let  that  waiter  know  that  I 
knew  what  good  manners  are.  But  if  that's 
their  custom  I  won't  say  anything  the  next 
time." 

Shortly  before  Mrs.  Houtman  left  her 
own  home  Agnes  had  given  her  a  lorgnette, 
thinking  that  it  would  be  convenient  for  her 
use  on  Sundays  when  she  was  reading  the 
service.  Mrs.  Houtman  used  it,  however,  on 
every  possible  occasion;  it  was  so  new  and 
novel.  One  day  she  stood  by  the  wood  pile 
looking  through  the  glasses  and  Tessina, 
watching  her,  said: 

"Grandma,  can't  you  see  those  big  sticks 
of  wood  without  your  glasses?" 

"Law  sakes,  dear,  yes,  I  think  I  can  see 
them  better  without,  but  I'm  practising 
looking  with  them  to  get  the  right  style. 


HEREFORD 

Mrs.  Fessendon,  one  of  our  parishioners, 
has  a  lorgnette,  and  she  makes  a  great 
display,  but  I  guess  I  can't  learn  to  flourish  it 
around  as  she  does,  but  I  can  use  it  in  a  quiet 
way,  and  I  shall  always  set  great  store  by  it." 

The  days  passed  rapidly,  and  the  time  final- 
ly came  when  Mrs.  Houtman  bade  them  good- 
by  and  returned  to  Sunledge.  She  had  seen 
enough  to  talk  about  for  many  months  and  in 
the  future  she  no  doubt  would  often  refer 
with  pride  to  the  many  things  she  saw  and 
heard  when  she  was  in  the  South. 

Tessina  often  spoke  of  her  grandmother's 
visit  and  wished  she  would  come  again.  She 
was  an  affectionate  child,  but  often  impetu- 
ous. Sometimes  combs,  brushes  and  even 
books  flew  from  her  hands,  but  the  storms  of 
passion  were  soon  over.  Sometimes  her  father 
threatened  that  she  would  have  to  go  to 
England  and  live  with  her  grandmother 
Immovili.  Then  she  would  quiet  down, 
and,  taking  the  hair  brush  to  him,  she  would 
begin  to  brush  his  hair,  knowing  very  well 
how  it  would  soothe  him. 

After  a  little  time  had  elapsed  she  would 
say,  "You  will  not  send  me  to  England,  will 
you?  If  you  do  send  me  away  off  across  the 
114 


HEREFORD'S  MOTHER 

great  ocean  you  won't  have  any  little  girl  to 
brush  your  hair!  Virgie  can't  do  it;  she  ain't 
big  enough." 

"Well,  but  mama  will,"  the  father  would 
answer. 

"Oh!  she  can't  do  it  as  well  as  I  can;  she 
ain't  got  time." 

Then  he  would  take  the  little  irresistible 
witch  on  his  knee,  and  they  would  become 
good  friends  again. 


IX 

Judy  and  Tessina  Clash 


w 


HAT  yo'  doin',  child,  wid 
m  6  ^  J^  /       dat  yere  dish  pan?"  ask- 
ed  Judy,    one   morning, 
nearly  on  the  verge  of 
impatience.       "Yo'     jes 
bring  it  back  in  de  house  right  smart.    I  done 
want  it." 

"Oh  I  I'm  sailing  my  boat  in  it,"  replied 
Tessina.  "You  jes  wait  awhile,  Judy,  and  stop 
your  jawing." 

"I  'clar,  chile,  I  done  can't  wait  fo'  yo'  no- 
tions. I'll  tell  yo'  ma  if  yo'  don'  bring  it  back 
dis  yere  minute." 

"I  wouldn't  be  a  tell-tale  nigger  if  I  was 
you;  it  is  bad  enough  to  be  black,  without 
being  a  blabber,"  said  Tessina,  in  disparaging 
tones. 

"I'se  jes'  ez  de  Lawd  made  me,  bress  yo' ! 
an'  I  s'pect  He  knew  best,  but  yo'  mus'n't  call 
me  niggah.  Yo'  is  mighty  naughty  to-day, 
an'  if  yo'  ain't  a  better  girl  de  ole  giant  will 
come  fo'  sho'  an'  carry  yo'  off." 
117 


HEREFORD 

"Well,"  answered  the  child,  "I'll  jes  tell 
him  to  take  you  first,  and  if  I  must  go,  too, 
I'll  follow  on  behind."  This  answer  was  too 
much  for  Judy  and  she  went  off  into  the  house 
giggling,  her  mouth  stretched  nearly  from 
ear  to  ear,  showing  her  great  white  teeth.  She 
was  utterly  vanquished,  and  Tessina  contin- 
ued to  sail  her  boat  to  her  heart's  content. 
After  she  grew  weary  of  her  play  she  took 
the  pan  in  and  said : 

"Judy,  I  have  been  away  off  across  the  blue 
ocean  to  England.  I  went  to  see  grandma. 
I  told  her  all  about  you.  I  told  her  how  you 
fussed  about  the  dish  pan,  and  she  said  that  I 
did  right  to  keep  it,  and  that  I  could  have  it 
any  time  I  wanted  it;  that  it  didn't  belong  to 
you.  Then  I  told  her  that  I  wanted  to  take  the 
coffee-mill  out  to  my  playhouse,  but  I  s'posed 
Judy  would  jaw  so.  Then  she  said,  'Never 
mind  about  her  jawing,  but  take  the  coffee- 
mill  whenever  you  want  it.'  Then  I  told  her 
what  you  said  about  the  giant  and  that  per- 
haps he  might  come."  As  Tessina  said  this, 
she  looked  over  her  shoulder,  first  one  side, 
then  the  other,  as  if  she  feared  he  might  al- 
ready be  near.  "But  grandma  said  I  need 
not  be  afraid  of  him,  fo'  he  died  long,  long 
118 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

ago.  So  now,  Judy,  you  need  not  scold  about 
every  little  thing  and  make  yourself  so  im- 
portant. You  can't  boss  everything.  Grand- 
ma said  so,  and,  of  course,  she  knows." 

"Law,  chile,  what  quar  notions  yo'  do  hav' ; 
yo'  is  a  strange  un,  sho'  nough.  But  yo' 
muss'n't  tell  sech  stories.  I  'clare  I  done  don' 
know  what  will  happen  to  yo'  if  yo'  do." 

At  this  point  Judy  was  called  to  go  on  an 
errand  to  the  store.  Tessina  followed  with 
her  doll  carriage  in  spite  of  Judy's  protesta- 
tions, for  she  was  not  dressed  as  Judy  would 
have  her  when  she  went  down  town. 

"Go  back,  chile,  an'  I'll  bring  yo'  some 
candy !  Yo'  don'  look  fit  to  go  to  de  store  an' 
I  done  can't  stop  now  to  change  yo'  dress." 

"I  shan't  go  back,"  responded  Tessina.  "I 
look  as  good  as  yo'  do;  so  now  stop  your 
fussin',"  and  she  carried  the  day. 

After  Judy  had  made  her  purchases  and 
they  were  returning  home  they  were  over- 
taken by  a  colored  man  whom  Judy  knew. 

"Dat  yo',  Judy,"  said  he.  "I  s'pects  'tis," 
she  answered,  throwing  her  head  up  at  the 
same  time.  They  halted  and  stood  facing 
each  other. 

"What  made  yo'  hurry  so  from  de  meetin' 
119 


HEREFORD 

last  night.  I  was  gwine  to  ask  to  go  home 
wid  yo'." 

"I  don'  know,"  said  Judy,  "but  I  never 
did  like  to  hang  'round  a  church  arfter  de 
meetin'  is  over.  Dar's  some  folks  dat  do, 
'though,  I  allow." 

"I've  had  my  mind  made  up  to  ask  yo' 
somethin',"  continued  the  other,  "but  it  'pears 
like  yo'  never  give  me  a  chance,  an'  now,  by 
golly,  I'se  gwine  to  take  de  chance  dat  has 
come  dis  yere  mornin'.  Ise  not  gwine  to 
'spress  myself  in  many  words,  but  I'se  gwine 
to  tell  yo'  dat  I  lub  yo'  mighty  well  an'  I  want 
yo'  to  promise  to  marry  me." 

"No,  Caleb,"  answered  Judy,  "I  done  can't 
make  any  sech  promise." 

At  this  answer,  Caleb  shifted  his  weight 
from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and  rolled  his 
eyes,  saying,  "Can't  I  'swade  yo',  Judy?  Don' 
be  hasty  dar  now;  jes'  think  a  spell  about  it." 

"My  answer  is  no,"  persisted  Judy;  yo' 
can't  support  yo'self,  but  live  half  de  time  on 
yo'  po'  ole  mother,  an'  if  yo'  can't  support 
yo'self,  yo'  couldn't  another  fo'  sho'." 

"I  wuz  thinkin',"  answered  Caleb,  "dat  yo' 
could  work  fo'  Marse  Houtman  jes  de  same, 
but  come  home  nights.  Ma'd  let  us  hav'  de 
120 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

front  room  in  her  cabin  an'  Mrs.  Houtman 
would,  of  co'se,  giv'  us  all  de  left  overs  if  we 
wuz  keepin'  house.  So  it  wouldn't  cost  much 
fo'  our  food  an'  we  could  git  along  right 
smart,  we  cert'n'y  could." 

"No,  Caleb,  I'se  no  fool  niggah.  I'se  not 
in  sech  a  hurry  to  marry  as  all  dat;  so  if  dats 
all  yo've  got  to  say  yo'd  better  go  along  an' 
try  some  other  gal." 

"I  don'  wan'  any  other  gal  'cause  yo'  is  de 
gal  I  lub,"  he  answered. 

"It's  no  use  talkin',"  insisted  Judy,  "I  done 
shan't  give  my  consent,  do  yo'  heah?  I 
done  shan't  marry  a  po',  shiftless  niggah,  an' 
I  don'  wan'  yo'  comin'  to  de  house,  an'  I  don' 
wan'  you  hangin'  round  arfter  meetin'  makin' 
folks  talk!" 

"Oh,  I  'spose  yo're  arfter  one  of  dem  slick 
waiters  at  de  Lexington,"  retorted  Caleb. 

"I  done  shan't  say  who  I'se  arfter,  but  I'se 
mighty  sho'  dat  it  ain't  yo',  it  sholy  ain't;  so 
dats  all  I've  got  to  say,"  and  she  hurried 
along  with  Tessina  toward  home.  She  felt 
quite  indignant  at  Caleb's  proposal  and  had 
not  overcome  her  agitation  when  she  reached 
the  Houtmans.  Ruth  noticed  her  disturbed 
appearance,  but  said  nothing,  as  her  mind 
121 


HEREFORD 

was  occupied  with  a  letter  the  post  had 
brought  from  Susan  Tripp,  who  was  a  step- 
sister of  Hereford's  mother. 

"Many  years  before  this  lady  had  migrated 
to  Vermont,  where  she  taught  school.  After 
a  few  months  she  became  acquainted  with 
John  Tripp,  a  young  farmer,  and  a  man  very 
prominent  among  the  Adventists.  So  her 
teaching  soon  came  to  an  end,  for  they  mar- 
ried and  settled  in  his  native  town,  where  by 
hard  work  they  had  succeeded  in  accumula- 
ting a  modest  little  fortune.  Susan  had  often 
talked  of  visiting  her  step-sister  in  Sunledge, 
but  Mr.  Tripp  was  always  too  busy  to  leave 
home  cares.  At  length  she  decided  to  go 
alone.  She  had  no  children  to  leave,  so  she 
readily  installed  a  housekeeper,  and,  after  get- 
ting her  household  matters  adjusted  she  pre- 
pared to  pack  for  her  journey.  After  her  visit 
in  Sunledge  she  wrote  that  she  expected  to 
pass  a  few  days  in  Washington.  Then  she 
wished  to  continue  her  journey  to  Richmond 
to  make  them  a  visit,  if  she  could  be  accom- 
modated, as  she  wished  to  see  something  of 
Southern  life  before  returning  home. 

Hereford  answered  promptly,  inviting  her 
to  come  as  soon  as  she  found  it  convenient 
122 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

and  he  would  show  her  "Dixieland."  She 
could  set  her  own  time  and  he  would  meet  her 
at  the  station. 

When  the  appointed  day  arrived  she  was 
kindly  escorted  by  Hereford  to  his  home.  She 
appeared  to  be  about  forty-five  or  fifty  years 
of  age,  and  was  muscular  but  not  fleshy.  She 
was  a  good  conversationalist,  but  her  voice 
was  harsh  and  grating,  or  it  seemed  so  at  least 
to  Hereford,  who  noticed  it  more,  perhaps, 
having  been  accustomed  to  hearing  the  soft 
voices  of  the  Southern  women. 

Ruth  and  the  children  were  ready  to  meet 
her.  After  her  wraps  had  been  disposed  of 
she  spoke  to  Virgie,  then  turning  to  Tessina 
she  said,  "Oh !  this  is  the  little  Italian  girl,  is 
it?  Well,  she  is  dark;  I  should  think  you 
would  be  afraid  folks  would  think  that  she 
was  a  mulatto." 

Hereford  immediately  turned  the  subject, 
but  not  quickly  enough  to  escape  Tessina's 
or  the  mother's  ears.  Susan  had  made  an  un- 
favorable impression  upon  both,  but  she  did 
not  know  it,  and  it  was  seemingly  passed  over. 

The  following  day  Tessina  played  by  the 
wood  pile  during  most  of  the  time.  She  dug 
a  large  hole  and  filled  it  with  water,  then  she 
123 


HEREFORD 

went  in  the  house  and  took  Judy's  mop  and 
dipped  it  in  the  puddle,  then  drew  it  out  and 
wrung  it,  as  she  had  seen  Judy  do.  This  she 
continued  to  do  several  times,  then  she  threw 
down  the  mop  and  made  mud  cakes  to  her 
satisfaction.  All  went  well  until  Judy  looked 
for  her  mop  and  when  she  found  it,  and  in 
such  a  condition,  too,  she  scolded  soundly. 
"Yo'  naughty  chile,  fo'  takin'  dis  yere  mop ! 
Giant  come  quick  and  take  dis  yere  chile 
away."  Then  there  was  a  crying  time  and 
mama  appeared  on  the  scene.  The  next  day 
Tessina  was  quite  out  of  sorts  because  Judy 
kept  silent  and  did  not  notice  her  much.  When 
evening  came  Tessina  threw  her  arms  around 
her  mother's  neck  and  said:  "I  jes'  love  you 
ma,  do  you  love  me  to-night?" 

"Yes,  dear,  I  always  love  you,"  responded 
Ruth. 

"Well,  Judy,  don'  love  me ;  she's  mad  and 
I'm  mad  with  her.  She's  been  cross  all  day 
jes  because  I  took  her  old  mop,  I  s'pose.  If 
she  pushes  me  'round  again  I'll  jes  slap  her 
face,  I  sholy  will." 

"There,  there;  you  must  not  feel  like  that," 
replied  the  mother.  "You  had  better  tell 
Judy  that  you  are  sorry  you  troubled  her,  and 
124 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

then  pray  to  be  forgiven  for  having  such 
naughty  thoughts." 

"Oh!  I  did  pray  about  it  last  night  after 
you  left  me.  I  asked  God  to  make  Judy  a 
better  girl,  and  not  let  her  be  so  cross  when  I 
take  the  dish  pan  to  sail  my  boat  in  or  when  I 
take  the  mop  and  coffee-mill.  'But  don't  let 
her  stay  mad  very  long,  Lord,'  I  said,  'be- 
cause I  want  her  to  talk  to.'  The  cof- 
fee mill,  ma,  is  fine  fun.  I  ground  up  some 
oat  meal  and  made  a  mess  for  the  chickens. 
Oh,  golly  I  how  they  did  eat.  I  gave  the  most 
to  my  two  pets  which  I  have  been  taming  to 
take  to  ride  in  my  doll  carriage.  They  eat, 
and  eat,  then  stretched  up  their  necks  and  it 
looked  like  they  couldn't  hardly  breathe." 

"Why,  child,  you  must  not  feed  them  so 
much  of  that  sticky  paste;  you'll  make  them 
sick,"  said  her  mother. 

"No,  ma,  I  shan't  ever  again,  sho'  'nough, 
for  they  are  both  dead.  Judy  said  that  she 
wouldn't  tell  on  me,  but  I  told  her  I  should 
tell  you  all  about  it,  because,  I  said,  'Mama 
says  that  I'm  a  mountaineer's  daughter  and 
must  always  remember  to  be  honest,  brave 
and  truthful.  So  now,  Judy,'  I  said,  'don't 
you  teach  me  to  deceive,  for  mama  would  be 
125 


HEREFORD 

awful  mad  when  she  found  it  out,  and  would 
give  us  both  the  dickens.'  You  won't  scold 
now,  will  you,  ma  ?  I've  felt  bad  enough  and 
cried  and  cried  over  my  two  dear  dead  chick- 
ens. I  was  going  to  have  such  fun  with  them. 
I  named  one  after  Judy.  She  said  she  didn't 
know  as  she  wanted  a  chicken  named  after 
her,  but  I  told  her  that  she  ought  to  be  real 
glad  that  I  had  thought  of  it.  She  laughed 
and  said,  'All  right,  honey,  then  we'll  name 
the  other  Punch.'  She  said  she  would  fix  a 
little  box  making  places  for  their  heads  and 
necks  to  come  through,  and  I  could  ride  them 
with  my  doll  every  day.  She  said  she  reckon- 
ed that  I'd  have  more  fun  than  the  chickens 
would,  but  it  'pears  like  they  wouldn't  mind  a 
short  ride  if  I  kept  them  out  of  the  sun.  But 
they  never  got  their  ride,  po'  things." 

Soon  after  this  confession  Tessina  fell 
asleep  and  forgot  all  her  trials.  On  the  fol- 
lowing day,  however,  she  was  destined  to  ex- 
perience one  of  the  greatest  trials  she  had  ever 
had. 

Because  her  Aunt  Susan  was  from  pie-lov- 
ing New  England,  Ruth  thought  that  she 
must  have  a  pie  on  the  table  for  her  at  least 
once  a  day.  On  this  particular  day  Judy  had 
126 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

made  a  fine,  well-browned  custard  pie.  When 
the  table  was  set  for  supper  she  had  placed  it 
at  the  end  where  Aunt  Susan  sat.  Tea  had 
been  announced,  but  for  some  reason  the 
members  of  the  household  lingered  for  a  few 
minutes  before  entering  the  dining-room. 

During  this  time  Tessina  had  slipped  away 
unnoticed  and  had  entered  the  dining-room 
and  pealed  off  the  thin  skin  which  covered  the 
top  of  the  custard  pie.  Aunt  Susan's  keen  eye 
observed  what  had  happened  as  soon  as  she 
took  her  seat  at  the  table,  but  attributed  it  to 
the  cook,  who  probably  had  allowed  it  to 
burn,  and  then  thinking  that  it  would  improve 
its  appearance,  had  pealed  off  the  top.  At  the 
same  instant  Ruth  and  her  husband  had  also 
caught  sight  of  the  fated  pie.  They  exchanged 
glances  and  Ruth  grew  pale.  She  knew  that  it 
was  in  perfect  condition  a  few  minutes  before. 
Where  was  Tessina,  she  wondered?  Alas! 
she  was  missing!  As  her  anxiety  deepened, 
Aunt  Susan  noticed  it,  and  grasping  the  situ- 
ation, asked,  "Where  is  Tessina?"  just  as 
Judy  entered  the  room. 

"She  seems  to  be  late,"  Ruth  stammered. 
Judy  at  the  same  moment  spied  the  pie.  She 
said  nothing  but  went  out  quietly  to  hunt  for 
127 


HEREFORD 

the  child.  She  found  her  crying  in  a  vacant 
field.  She  sat  beside  Tessina  and  lifted  her 
into  her  lap. 

Hereford  felt  too  much  disturbed  to  eat,  so 
he  also  slipped  away  to  search  for  her.  As  he 
approached  the  place  where  the  child  was,  he 
found  that  Judy  was  already  with  her,  so  he 
retreated  behind  a  board  fence  and  overheard 
the  following: 

"Lawd  sakes,  honey,  did  yo'  peal  de  top  of 
dat  yere  pie?" 

"I  did,"  said  the  child. 

"Lawd  bress  yo',  what  possessed  yo'  un  to 
do  sech  a  thing?" 

"I  don't  know  what  I  did  it  for.  I  did  not 
mean  to  spoil  it,"  answered  Tessina. 

"Did  yo'  do  it  to  plague  Aunt  Susan, 
chile?"  again  questioned  Judy. 

"No,"  said  the  other,  "I  didn't  mean  to 
plague  anyone.  Just  as  soon  as  I  did  it  I  was 
mighty  sorry  and  scared.  I  ran  out  here  as 
fast  as  I  could  and  now  I'm  afraid  to  go 
home." 

"Well,  I'll  s'plain  it  all  to  ma,"  said  Judy, 
"but  I  'spects  she's  mighty  riled  over  it." 

"Oh !  If  I  only  hadn't  done  it,  Judy,"  said 
Tessina,  in  dejected  tones.  "I'd  give  my  best 
128 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

doll  or  even  black  Dinah." 

"Oh !  dat  yere  feelin'  yo'  hav',"  said  Judy, 
"I  'spects  is  de  dual  nature  in  us  dat  my  minis- 
ter talks  about.  He  said  St.  Paul  had  it  to 
struggle  agin',  fo'  he  said,  'When  he  would 
do  good,  evil  wuz  present  with  him,'  an'  it 
'pears  like  we  all  hav'  it.  We  do  wrong  befo' 
we  know  it,  den  we  am  mighty  sorry,  but  don' 
be  'fraid  to  come  home,  I'll  'splain,  an'  ma 
won't  be  hard  on  yo',  an'  I  'spects  de  good 
Lawd  won't  be  hard  on  yo',  either,  fo'  He'll 
pity  a  po'  little  chile  like  yo'  an'  overlook  it,  if 
yo'  did  do  sech  a  plum'  naughty  thing.  So 
come,  honey,  we'll  go  home." 

"Oh!  I  can't  now,  Judy,  let  me  wait  till 
dark!  I  don't  want  to  see  Aunt  Susan.  I 
want  to  go  right  upstairs  to  ma's  room  and 
see  her  all  alone.  I  jes'  want  to  ask  her  to 
kiss  me,  even  if  I  was  wicked  and  spoilt  her 
nice  pie." 

"Yo'  jes'  needn't  see  yo'  aunt,"  said  Judy. 
"We'll  go  upstairs  right  smart  to  ma's  room. 
I'll  bring  yo'  supper  to  yo'  an'  we'll  talk  it  all 
over  with  ma.  'Pears  like,  honey,  dat  I  lub 
yo'  more  than  ever  befo'."  As  she  said  this 
she  swayed  back  and  forth  with  the  child 
clasped  in  her  arms  and  continued: 
129 


HEREFORD 

"Yo'  mus'  come,  honey,  my  chile." 

She  then  arose  and  taking  Tessina  by  her 
little  hand  they  both  turned  their  steps  toward 
the  house. 

When  Aunt  Susan  learned  that  it  was 
Tessina  who  spoiled  the  pie,  her  indignation 
was  thoroughly  aroused.  "If  you  do  not  pun- 
ish that  child  well  for  such  a  prank,"  she  said 
to  Ruth,  "you'll  live  to  regret  it.  Such  mis- 
chief I  never  heard  of  before.  What  an  ex- 
ample she  will  be  for  little  Virgie  if  she  keeps 
on  doing  such  unheard  of  things.  I  cannot 
stand  by  and  see  my  own  blood  in  such  mortal 
danger  as  threatens  Virgie,  without  sounding 
a  note  of  warning.  You  ought  to  give  that 
child  something  to  do  to  keep  her  from  think- 
ing of  such  tricks.  If  you  both  and  that  Judy 
are  so  easy  with  her  now,  when  she  is  older 
she  will  surely  take  the  'broad  road'  which 
we  are  warned  against.  You  should  be  very 
strict  with  a  child  like  her,  and  bring  her  up 
to  fear  God,  even  if  she  doesn't  the  rest  of 
you." 

A  few  days  subsequent  to  this  little  domes- 
tic cyclone,  Judy  was  left  alone  with  the  chil- 
dren.    She  sat  with  Virgie  by  the  wood  pile 
where  Tessina  was  at  play. 
130 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

She  had  not  been  seated  long  when  Tessina 
rolled  a  little  log  in  front  of  her  and  sitting 
upon  it,  prepared  for  a  little  chat. 

"You  don't  like  Aunt  Susan,  do  you,  Judy, 
any  better  than  I  do?" 

"Well,  I  don'  know,  honey,"  replied  the 
other,  "but  what  makes  yo'  think  dat?" 

"Oh !"  said  Tessina,  "'cause  you  don't  show 
your  teeth  so  much  when  you  laugh  as  you  did 
befo'  she  came." 

"Well,  I  'spects,"  said  Judy,  "dat  if  Aunt 
Susan  lived  here  fo'  long  she'd  try  to  get  yo' 
ma  to  get  shet  o'  me.  She  done  look  at  my 
hands  like  as  if  she  thought  de  black  would 
come  off.  Den  she  says  I  don'  season  de  food 
well,  jes  as  though  she  couldn't  put  on  more 
salt  if  she  done  wants  it.  But  don'  say  any- 
thing, chile,  she  won't  be  here  fo'  long." 

"No,  Judy,  I  won't,  but  we  both  don't  like 
her  fo'  sho.  Of  co'se,"  she  continued,  "we 
shouldn't  want  to  harm  her." 

"Lawd,  bress  yo',  no,"  answered  Judy. 

"Nor  tare  a  hole  in  her  best  gown,  so  she'd 
have  to  mend  it,"  continued  the  child,  reflec- 
tively. 

"No !  no !  honey,"  said  the  other,  "for  dat 
would  be  wicked  and  revengeful,  and  de  Bible 


HEREFORD 

sez  we  muss'  lub  our  enemies,  but  I  find  it  a 
mighty  hard  job  sometimes." 

"Well,"  said  Tessina,  "I  reckon  it  don't 
mean  her,  Judy.  You  see  she  ain't  exactly  an 
enemy;  she  ain't  quite  bad  enough  for  that, 
so  I  reckon  we  haven't  got  to  love  her  so  very 
much  if  we  don't  want  to.  As  she  said  this 
she  threw  her  arms  around  Judy's  neck  and 
continued,  "She  shan't  drive  you  away,  she 
ain't  the  boss  here;  ma  won't  let  you  go  fo' 
sho',  so  don't  feel  bad  any  more.  Now,  Judy, 
I  want  you  to  splain  something  to  me  if  you 
can.  I  was  going  to  ask  you  the  other  night, 
but  you  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  ready  fo' 
church.  Now  tell  me  what  holds  the  stars  up 
in  the  sky;  what  keeps  them  from  falling 
down  on  us?  They  say  they  are  so  very 
large." 

"Well,  de  poets  say,"  answered  Judy,  "dat 
de  Lawd  holds  dem  wid  His  hands,  but  I've 
heared  folks  say  dat  dey  is  held  by  grav'ta- 
tion." 

"Grav'tation,"  repeated  Tessina,  "what's 
that?" 

"Well,"  said  Judy,  "I  'clar',  chile,  I  don' 
know,  but  dey  say  dat  'tis  a  heap  powerful. 
Hows'ever,  I  done  can't  understand  why  it 
132 


JUDY  AND  TESSINA  CLASH 

don'  work  in  one  place  as  well  as  'nother,  an' 
it  nuver  keeps  my  dishes  from  falling  when 
dey  slip  from  my  hands.  Dey  jes  go  smash  1 
an'  grav'tation  don'  stop  'em." 

"Well,"  questioned  Tessina,  still  revolving 
the  subject  in  her  mind,  "s'pose  that  the  poets 
are  right  and  that  God  holds  the  stars  with 
His  hands,  what  would  happen  if  they  slip- 
ped out  of  them  as  the  dishes  do  out  of 
yours?" 

"Well,  I  done  can't  say,  chile,  but  I  don' 
think  dat  we  need  worry,  fo'  dey  say  dat  they 
hav'  been  up  dere  millions  ob  years.  It  'pears 
like  dat  dey  jes  know  dere  place  an'  stay  in  it. 
At  any  rate,  honey,  which  ebber  way  it  is,  I 
done  can't  s'plain  grav'tation  fo'  sho'." 


133 


X 

Meeting  of  the  Adventists 

ONE  day  Hereford  heard  that  there 
was  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  Ad- 
ventists  in  a  hall  in  the  city,  and 
knowing  that  his  aunt  was  a  dis- 
ciple of  that  faith,  he  asked  her 
if  she  would  like  to  attend.     She  replied  that 
she  would  like  very  much  to  do  so  and  wished 
that    Ruth    and    he   would    accompany   her, 
which  they  readily  consented  to  do.     Here- 
ford had  heard  something  about  this  sect  at 
home,  that  it  originated  in  the  teachings  of 
Rev.   William    Miller,   who   taught   that   in 
1843  Christ  would  make  His  second  advent 
into  the  world.  Nothing  of  the  kind  occurred, 
however,  and  Mr.  Miller  died  a  few  years 
later. 

After  his  death  his  followers  continued  to 
teach  the  doctrine,  and,  later,  they  divided 
into  two  or  more  branches,  one  of  which  was 
called  the  "Seventh  Day  Adventists."  This 
branch  maintained  that  Saturday  was  the  real 
Sabbath,  the  one  which  the  Jews  had  always 
135 


HEREFORD 

kept  and  which  never  should  have  been 
changed.  Another  branch  was  called  "Ad- 
vent Christians,"  and  they  were  the  ones  who 
were  holding  this  meeting. 

A  long-haired  preacher  with  a  deep  bass 
voice  presided.  His  prayer  was  earnest,  his 
sermon  was  good,  his  warning  against  the  sins 
of  intemperance,  immorality  and  dishonesty 
in  every  form  was  commendable  and  forceful. 
As  he  continued,  however,  his  peculiar  doc- 
trine soon  became  more  apparent,  for  he  said : 

"The  judgment  day  is  now  soon  to  come, 
when  we  shall  see  the  Lord  of  Glory  in  the 
sky.  We  must  be  waiting  for  Him,  watching, 
expecting  and  hail  his  appearance.  We  must 
relight  our  torches  at  the  pentecostal  fires,  and 
flash  out  the  light  of  coming  glories  with  zeal 
ever  increasing  as  the  august  hour  draws 
nigh." 

"Amen!"  resounded  through  the  hall  again 
and  again. 

"A — men!"  shouted  another  very  heavy 
voice  directly  behind  Hereford  and  his  party. 
Then  the  minister  broke  forth  in  song  and  all 
joined  in  the  hymn: 

"Delay  not  more  we  longing  cry 
136 


MEETING  OF  THE  ADVENTISTS 

Come  back  and  let  us  see  Thee  nigh ; 
Come,  and  restore  our  dead  who  sleep 
Come  dry  the  tears  of  those  who  weep." 

One  after  another  of  the  people  spoke, 
Aunt  Susan  being  among  the  number.  Her 
eloquence  was  marvelous.  "Be  not  deceived," 
she  said,  "The  judgment  day  is  coming,  yea, 
it  is  near  at  hand.  Be  ye  ready,  for  the  clouds 
shall  part  and  the  angels  shall  appear  with 
trumpets  and  amid  great  rejoicing.  Then 
eternal  life  shall  be  given  to  the  faithful, 
while  the  rest  shall  be  doomed  with  the 
earth." 

Finally  the  meeting  closed  and  Aunt  Susan 
with  her  companions  walked  home  in  silence. 

The  meeting  had  excited  Aunt  Susan  so 
much  that  after  they  reached  home  she  felt 
that  she  must  still  make  it  the  subject  of  dis- 
cussion. As  she  expressed  her  feelings  her 
face  became  deathly  pale,  while  the  veins  in 
her  neck  swelled  almost  to  bursting.  Her 
tones  were  fervent,  her  zeal  was  unmistak- 
able. One  could  scarcely  help  feeling  that  her 
predictions  of  the  earth's  utter  destruction 
might  be  immediately  fulfilled. 

She  was  allowed  to  go  on  undisturbed,  as 
137 


HEREFORD 

her  nephew  and  Ruth  thought  it  best  to  let 
her  give  full  vent  to  her  intense  feelings.  She 
had  doubtless  been  longing  to  warn  them  of 
their  impending  danger  from  unbelief  for 
some  time,  and  this  meeting  had  opened  the 
way  for  her. 

Hereford  and  his  wife  sat  quietly  submis- 
sive to  the  ordeal  through  which  they  were 
passing.  They  understood  each  other  and 
that  was  their  solace. 

When  their  aunt  had  at  last  quieted  down 
her  nephew  said:  "You  must  remember,  aunt, 
that  people  who  live  in  a  slow-going  small 
town  have  more  time  to  think  of  these  matters 
than  we  who  live  in  cities,  for  we  have  to 
hurry  too  much  to  allow  such  a  subject  to  be- 
come prominent  in  our  minds.  But  little  busi- 
ness could  be  transacted  if  we  did.  A  feeling 
of  uncertainty  would  prevail  everywhere  in 
everything.  Education  would  suffer,  social 
progress  would  be  impeded.  Remember, 
aunt,  that  the  man  spoken  of  in  the  Bible, 
who  was  given  five  talents,  and  the  man  who 
was  given  two,  met  with  approval  because 
they  had  gained  more  by  using  them,  while 
the  poor  fellow  with  his  one  talent  carefully 
wrapped  in  a  napkin  was  severely  rebuked. 
138 


MEETING  OF  THE  ADVENTISTS 

If  we  spend  all  our  time  watching  and  pre- 
paring for  the  end  of  the  world  we  should  not 
think  it  worth  while  to  strive  for  attainments 
of  any  kind.  The  gifted  young  man  who 
could  learn  to  carve  wonderful  statues,  or 
paint  glorious  landscapes  would  be  likely  to 
wrap  his  talent  "in  a  napkin,"  feeling  that 
there  might  not  be  time  for  him  to  complete 
his  course  of  studies,  or  if  he  did,  that  they 
would  prove  of  little  account  if  the  end  of  the 
world  were  so  near,  consequently  he  would  be 
forced  into  some  uncongenial  employment  in 
order  to  earn  his  daily  bread. 

Then,  again,  many  people  would  become 
enfeebled  by  a  constant  sense  of  fear.  My, 
dear  aunt,  your  ideas  would  prove  disastrous 
in  every  field  of  human  endeavor.  Our  lead- 
ing thoughts  should  be,  rather,  to  improve  our 
opportunities  and  to  make  the  most  that  we 
can  out  of  ourselves,  and  work  for  the  better- 
ment of  our  fellow  beings.  The  little  deeds 
of  love,  too,  'the  cup  of  cold  water,'  should 
ever  be  borne  in  our  minds." 

Here  Aunt  Susan  interrupted  him  by  say- 
ing: "It  is  plain  to  be  seen  that  your  thoughts 
are  centered  too  much  upon  the  things  of  this 
world.  You  are,  I  fear,  dangerously  near  the 
139 


HEREFORD 

humanitarian  line,  and  your  ideas  are  unscrip- 
tural.  Your  churches  have  taught  and  still  dt> 
teach  much  error.  For  instance,  the  prevalent 
belief  that  the  departed  go  at  once  to  heaven, 
is  what  first  gave  rise  to  Spiritualism.  Men 
thought  that  if  spirits  had  an  existence  imme- 
diately after  they  left  this  world,  that  there 
must  be  some  way  of  communicating  with 
them.  This  may  do  very  well  for  poetry,  but 
it  is  not  so  taught  in  the  Bible.  The  people  in 
general  are  asleep  upon  this  grand  theme  of 
the  Second  Advent  of  our  Lord,  but  thank 
God!  there  are  nearly  two  hundred  thousand 
in  our  own  land  alone,  who  are  believers. 
When  He  comes,  He  will  not  find  them  nap- 
ping." 

"That  point  in  our  belief  to  which  you  ob- 
ject," said  Hereford,  "may  be  poetic  fancy, 
aunt,  but  I  prefer  to  think  that  when  our 
friends  leave  this  world,  they  awake  in 
some  realm  where  the  natural  and  supernat- 
ural worlds  meet  and  blend  in  perfect  har- 
mony. This  is  the  thought  that  cheers,  com- 
forts and  helps  the  believer." 

"What  is  the  use,"  inquired  Aunt  Susan, 
"of  believing  something  that  is  not  true,  sim- 
ply because  it  is  pleasant?" 
140 


MEETING  OF  THE  ADVENTISTS 

"Have  you  forgotten,"  asked  Hereford, 
"the  promise  to  the  dying  thief  on  the  cross 
that  he  should  that  day  be  with  the  Lord  in 
Paradise?" 

"Oh!"  rejoined  the  aunt,  "that  is  an  old 
argument  of  your  churches,  but  it  is  in  fact  no 
argument  in  your  favor,  for  the  meaning  of 
that  passage  is  entirely  changed  by  the  punctu- 
ation. Some  Bibles  have  the  comma  before, 
and  some  after,  the  word  'to-day,'  and  the 
punctuating  was  done  by  later  writers,  because 
it  was  not  employed  until  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury. The  old  cottage  Bible  by  Parker  gives 
a  better  rendering  of  the  passage,  and  it  is  in 
our  favor.  The  Lord  could  not  have  meant 
they  were  to  be  in  paradise  that  very  day,  be- 
cause He,  Himself,  did  not  ascend  to  Heaven 
until  four  days  later." 

"I  think  that  you  could  easily  be  answer- 
ed," replied  Hereford,  "but  not  by  me,  for  it 
is  quite  out  of  my  field  of  discussion.  You 
should  have  talked  with  our  parson  in  Sun- 
ledge.  I  think  he  could  have  enlightened  you." 

"We  had  some  talk  upon  the  subject,"  an- 
swered the  aunt,  "but  he  showed  so  much 
firmness  in  his  opinions  that  I  thought  it  quite 
useless  to  talk  and  feared  that  if  we  con- 
Hi 

10 


HEREFORD 

tinued  we  might  both  lose  our  self-control." 

"Well,  I  must  say,  aunt,"  calmly  replied 
her  nephew,  "that  your  doctrine  would  not 
suit  me."  By  this  time  Hereford  began  to 
feel  a  reaction  in  his  spirits  and  the  subject  be- 
gan to  appear  to  him  in  a  ludicrous  light,  as 
he  said,  it  would  seem  out  of  pure  mischief: 
"I  like  a  nap  as  well  as  anyone,  but  I  don't 
think  that  I  want  to  sleep  a  thousand  or  more 
years,  as  might  be  required  according  to  your 
belief  before  I  go  to  Heaven.  Really  I  should 
forget  who  I  was  when  I  awoke  in  that  length 
of  time.  I  should  also  be  made  very  nervous 
through  life,  for  every  time  we  had  a  thunder 
shower  I  should  think  that  it  might  be  the 
heralding  of  the  judgment  day,  and  just  think 
of  the  shoes  I'd  wear  out  running  home  to  see 
if  the  folks  were  ready  to  start!" 

"How  can  you!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Susan, 

"speak  in  such  a  trifling  manner  of  so  serious 

a  subject?     I  am  surprised  and  shocked  at 

your  worldliness.     Something  must  be  wrong 

with  a  person  who  does  not  look  forward  with 

expectation  and  longing  to  that  great  day." 

"You  must  at  least  be  charitable,"  said  the 

nephew,  "for  we  may  not  be  as  worldly  as 

you  think.     Ruth  is  a  Presbyterian  and  I  was 

142 


MEETING  OF  THE  ADVENTISTS 

brought  up  in  the  same  faith  and  certainly  we 
found  it  strict  enough.  If  the  great  day  you 
speak  of  comes  in  our  lifetime,  I  really  think 
that  it  would  be  as  well  for  us  to  be  found  at 
our  usual  occupation,  provided  that  it  is  an 
honest  one,  as  to  be  found  sitting  up  on  the 
ridgepole  shouting." 

"You  don't  seem  to  be  in  the  right  spirit," 
said  the  aunt.  "I  have  no  doubt  but  that  your 
church  is  a  good  one,  even  though  blind  on 
some  points,  but  you  lived  so  long  among 
those  wild  mountain  folks,  and  Ruth  lived  so 
long  in  Europe  among  Italians  and  all  kinds 
of  strange  people  that  it  is  not  a  wonder  that 
you  both  should  have  become  worldly  and  in- 
different to  your  souls'  welfare.  I  really  fear 
that  you  are  indulging  too  much  in  feelings 
of  self-righteousness  and  thus  forgetting  that 
it  is  by  faith  alone  that  we  are  saved,  and  not 
by  works.  It  will  be  your  sacred  duty  to  teach 
your  children  this  too,  and  to  bring  them  up 
in  the  fear  of  God." 

"I  am  sure,  aunt,  that  if  we  followed  your 
advice  in  bringing  up  Tessina  we  would  be 
making  a  great  mistake,  for  she  possesses 
traits  of  character  which  we  highly  esteem. 
She  is  frank  and  truthful  to  a  high  degree, 
H3 


HEREFORD 

and  were  we  too  strict  with  her  she  would 
soon  lose  both  of  these  fine  qualities.  You 
say,  too,  that  we  should  teach  our  children  to 
fear  God.  To  a  certain  extent  that  is  right, 
but  is  it  not  better  to  cultivate  in  a  child's 
mind  the  spirit  of  love?  Is  it  not  better  to 
point  out  the  glories  of  the  sunset,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  flowers  of  the  field  and  forest? 
To  listen  to  the  bird-voices  and  learn  to  recog- 
nize their  beautiful  songs?  And  as  the  child 
grows  older  to  impress  gradually  upon  his 
mind  the  great  purpose  of  life  which  is  the 
shaping  of  character  by  truth  and  goodness, 
which  is,  I  believe,  the  real  Christ  life;  for 
character  is  the  salvation  of  which  you  speak." 

"Well,"  replied  the  aunt,  "I've  warned 
you,  at  any  rate.  I  do  not  know  about  such 
tenets.  I'm  afraid  it  is  not  sound  doctrine. 
I  wish  you  could  attend  our  meetings  for 
awhile;  I  think  that  your  spirituality  would 
become  deepened.  I  only  hope  that  you  will 
not  lose  your  souls  by  leaving  the  old  Faith, 
and  trifling  with  liberal  ideas." 

"You  misunderstand  me,  aunt;  I  have  not 

forsaken  the   old   Faith,   but  simply  take   a 

broader  view  of  certain  points  which  effect 

man's  progress  in  working  out  his  own  salva- 

144 


MEETING  OF  THE  ADVENTISTS 

tion.  The  Christian  Church  has  undergone 
great  changes  in  the  past,  and  the  church  of 
the  future  will  doubtless  be  broad  and  inclu- 
sive. Still,  Christ  must  be  the  leader,  for  He  is 
the  vital  element  which  distinguishes  Chris- 
tianity from  other  religions.  There  are  some 
who  would  mislead  us;  they  tear  down  and 
take  away  too  much,  and  have  very  little  of 
value  to  offer  for  our  help  and  comfort.  In 
fact,  they  have  nothing  but  a  cold  Pantheism 
which  is  wholly  devoid  of  emotion  and  mis- 
sionary power.  The  works  of  the  great  mas- 
ters, for  instance,  Handel's  solo,  'I  Know  That 
My  Redeemer  Liveth,'  and  Gounod's  exqui- 
site, 'Repentir'  (O,  Divine  Redeemer),  could 
hardly  have  been  conceived  but  for  the  inspir- 
ation of  the  text." 

"I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  have  some 
rational  ideas,  at  least,"  replied  the  aunt, 
"even  if  you  haven't  the  religious  fervor  of 
the  Adventist."  With  these  closing  words  she 
bade  them  "good-night"  and  retired.  The 
following  day  they  took  her  for  a  long  drive 
out  into  the  country  and  the  subject  which  had 
so  excited  her  the  night  before  was  not  again 
referred  to  during  her  stay. 

A  few  days  after  her  departure  for  her 
145 


HEREFORD 

home  Tessina  said,  "Mama,  did  Aunt  Susan 
make  you  twice  glad,  once  when  she  came, 
and  once  when  she  left?" 

"Why,  child,"  asked  her  mother,  "what 
makes  you  ask  such  a  question  ?" 

"Oh!  I  was  talking  to  Judy  and  she  said 
she  reckoned  that  you  were  made  twice  glad 
when  aunt  went." 

"Judy  shouldn't  talk  like  that  about  our 
company,"  replied  her  mother,  absently. 

"Well,  ma,  were  you  twice  glad?  Anyway 
I  was  glad  when  she  went,  and  I  hope  she 
won't  come  again  till  I'm  growed  up  and  can 
get  away  while  she's  here.  I  jes  don't  love 
her  and  it's  no  use  for  anyone  to  tell  me  to." 

"Well,  dear,"  answered  Ruth,  "she  will 
not  be  likely  to  come  again  very  soon,  as  she 
lives  a  long  distance  from  here,  so  I  would 
forget  all  about  any  unpleasant  incidents  of 
her  visit.  Tomorrow,  we'll  go  to  Capitol 
Hill  and  feed  the  squirrels."  This  promise 
always  diverted  Tessina,  and,  as  usual,  it 
proved  effective  on  this  occasion. 

A  few  days  later  Ruth  was  called  away  to 

remain  over  night.  She  returned  home  toward 

dusk  of  the  following  day.    After  Virgie  had 

been  tucked  away  for  the  night,  she  took  Tes- 

146 


MEETING  OF  THE  ADVENTISTS 

sina  up  in  her  lap  and  as  they  rocked  in  the 
great  armchair  they  began  their  usual  little 
bedtime  talk.  'Have  you  been  a  good  girl," 
questioned  the  mother,  "since  I've  been  gone? 
I  hope  you  haven't  plagued  Judy?" 

"No,  ma,  I  haven't  plagued  her,  but  I 
reckon  I  didn't  do  jess'  right  last  night." 

"Why,  what  did  you  do?"  inquired  Ruth. 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  Tessina,  with  a  sigh, 
"when  I  was  ready  to  say  my  prayers  I  told 
Judy  that  I  was  going  to  say  them  in  Italian." 

"Well,"  she  said,  "she  s'posed  it  was  all 
right.  She  reckoned  de  Lord  could  under- 
stand them  if  she  couldn't,  so  I  said:  Tadre 
Nostro  che  sei  ne'  cieli  sia  santificato  i'  tuo 
nome.  II  tuo  regno  venga  La  tua  volonta, 
sia  fatta  in  terra  come  in  cielo.  Dacci  oggi  il 
nostro  pane  cotidiano,'  and  then  I  stopped, 
and  Judy  thought  I  had  said  all  the  prayer." 

"Why  did  you  stop  where  you  did?" 
queried  her  mother.  "You  might  have  ended 
before  and  Judy  would  not  have  known." 

"Well,  you  see,  I  wanted  to  make  sure  of 
my  daily  bread;  you  don't  s'pose  I  wanted  to 
starve,  do  you?" 

"My  little  girl  did  not  do  right,"  said 
Ruth.  "She  not  only  did  wrong  in  cutting 


HEREFORD 

the  prayer  short,  but  she  deceived  Judy." 

"Well,  ma,"  answered  Tessina,  thought- 
fully, "I  can  fix  it  with  Judy  all  right.  I'll 
buy  her  a  bran  new  clay  pipe  and  some  to- 
bacco." 

"Have  you  the  money  to  pay  for  it?"  asked 
her  mother,  with  forced  seriousness. 

"Yes,  I  have,  if  I  take  my  missionary 
money.  I  s'pects  the  heathen  can  get  along 
this  time  without  mine;  if  they  can't  they 
must  cut  down  s'penses.  Judy  shall  have  her 
tobacco  anyway,  and  that  will  set  her  right, 
but  I'm  afraid  that  God  didn't  like  my  leav- 
ing off  part  of  the  prayer,  so  I  want  to  do 
something  to  please  Him.  I  guess  I'll  say 
my  prayers  twice  to-night,  once  in  English  and 
once  in  Italian." 

"I  think  that  would  be  a  good  plan,"  said 
the  mother. 

"Perhaps,"  continued  the  child,  "I'd 
better  say  them  three  times  if  I  can  only  keep 
awake." 

"I  think  twice  will  do,"  answered  her 
mother. 

Then  Tessina  undressed  and  repeated  the 
prayer  twice  as  she  had  proposed.  Afterward 
her  mother  kissed  her  affectionately  and  then 
148 


left  her  to  her  dreams. 

When  Ruth  and  Tessina  went  to  walk  the 
following  day  they  called  on  a  Mrs.  Bland  to 
see  if  she  would  accompany  them,  but  finding 
that  she  was  out,  they  continued  their  walk 
by  themselves.  Mrs.  Bland  was  a  neighbor 
and  was  on  very  friendly  terms  with  Ruth. 
She  belonged  to  an  old  family  in  Richmond 
and  was  highly  esteemed  by  all  for  her  many 
good  qualities. 

As  Ruth  and  Tessina  strolled  on,  the  child 
began  her  little  confidential  talk.  "I  love 
Mrs.  Bland  so  much,"  she  said.  "She  often 
strokes  my  hair  and  says  how  pretty  it  is. 
Aunt  Susan  never  said  that,  did  she?  And, 
ma,  does  aunt  have  a  spinning-wheel  at  her 
home  and  does  she  spin?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  mother.  "I 
think  it  quite  likely  that  she  does,  as  she  lives 
in  Vermont,  where  the  farmers  keep  lots  of 
sheep  and  she  may  spin  her  own  yarn,  but  I 
never  heard  her  say  so." 

"Do  you  remember  the  day,"  continued 
Tessina,  "when  we  went  up  around  Jefferson 
Davis'  mansion  and  I  said  to  Aunt  Susan: 
'This  is  now  a  museum ;  don't  you  want  to  go 

in  and  see  the  things  ?'  and  she  said  she  guess- 
149 


HEREFORD 

ed  not,  because  Jefferson  Davis  was  a  very 
wicked  man  and  she  didn't  care  to  go  in  where 
he  used  to  live.  The  next  day  I  went  to  Mrs. 
Eland's  house  and  I  asked  her  if  that  man 
was  very  wicked  who  used  to  live  in  that  man- 
sion, and  I  told  her  what  Aunt  Susan  had  said. 
Oh,  my!  didn't  she  look  mad!  and  she  said 
that  he  was  not  wicked,  but  that  he  was  a 
great  and  good  man  and  did  what  he  thought 
was  right;  and  that  when  I  got  older  I  would 
understand.  Then  she  said  to  her  sister,  who 
was  sewing  something,  that  she  reckoned  that 
that  Yankee  we  had  visiting  us  was  a  cross- 
grained  spinster  and  that  she  shouldn't  come 
in  to  see  us  till  she  was  gone  home.  I  didn't 
see  what  I  had  said  to  make  her  feel  so  angry, 
so  I  came  home.  I  was  going  to  ask  Aunt 
Susan  when  I  came  in  the  yard  about  her 
spinning-wheel,  but  she  didn't  look  up,  so  I 
thought  I  had  better  not  speak,  for  fear  I 
should  make  her  angry  like  I  did  Mrs.  Bland. 
So  I  went  out  to  the  woodpile  to  play  with 
Dinah  and  the  kitten,  for  I  thought  they 
wouldn't  get  mad  like  real  folks  do,  but  be- 
fore I  got  through  I  reckon  that  kitten  was 
the  maddest  of  all.  You  see  it  was  very  hot 
and  people  were  fanning  themselves  and  I 
150 


MEETING  OF  THE  ADVENTISTS 

thought  that  my  po'  little  kitten  must  be  very 
warm  all  covered  with  fur.  So  I  thought  I'd 
cool  her  off  by  giving  her  a  nice  bath.  I  filled 
up  the  hole  I  have  by  the  woodpile  with 
water,  then  tied  a  strip  of  cotton  around 
kitty's  body  and  dropped  her  in  and  jumped 
her  up  and  down.  Oh — !  didn't  she  scratch, 
though !  Just  look  there !  and  there !  The 
scars  ain't  all  gone  yet.  Well,  kitty  did  look 
cool  after  it,  sho'  'nough,  and  I  think  she 
liked  it  after  she  got  over  being  scared,  for 
when  I  gave  her  milk  for  supper  she  was  all 
dry,  and  she  purred  as  happy  as  ever.  Judy 
said  that  cats  are  plum'  set  agin  water,  but  I 
reckon  she  wouldn't  mind  it  so  much  another 
time." 


XI 
Judy  Gives  "Sage"  Advice 

WHERE  are  yo'  going, 
Judy?"  questioned  Tes- 
sina,  one  afternoon,  after 
she  had  passed  a  strenu- 
ous morning. 

"I'se  gwine  to  see  a  friend  on  Clay  street. 
If  yo'  want  to  go  wid  me  yo'  can,"  answered 
Judy,  good-naturedly.  "I  want  to  ask  yo'  on 
de  way  how  yo'  got  into  sech  a  fuss  wid  dat 
yere  boy  dis  mornin' ;  who  is  he  an'  what  did 
he  say  to  make  yo'  so  plum'  mad?" 

"He  is  a  little  Yankee  boy,"  answered 
Tessina,  as  they  walked  on,  "named  Harry 
Smart.  He  an'  his  mother  are  visiting  the 
family  next  to  Mrs.  Bland.  Yo'  see,  Fanny 
Bland,  Rose  Brown  an'  I  were  playing,  an' 
then  he  came  to  play  with  us.  Fanny  is  al- 
ways so  kind  that  she  let  him  come  to  'muse 
him.  Well,  we  had  hardly  started  playin'  a 
new  game  when  that  boy  said  to  Fanny, 
'What  makes  that  girl  so  dark;  is  she  part 
nigger?'  'No,  she  ain't,'  said  Fanny,  quickly, 
153 


HEREFORD 

'she  is  part  Italian  and  is  a  nice  little  girl,  too.' 
Then  he  stepped  up  to  me  and  asked  if  my 
father  was  a  hand-organ  man.  Well,  I  was 
so  mad  I  slapped  his  face  jes'  as  hard  as  I 
could.  Then  he  began  to  cry  an'  I  ran  home 
crying,  too.  Ma  said  it  was  very  naughty  to 
strike  him  an'  I  had  to  stay  in  my  room  two 
hours." 

"Well,  I  reckon  he's  a  no  'count  boy,"  said 
Judy,  in  sympathizing  tones,  "an'  his  folks 
ought  to  teach  him  some  manners.  But  yo' 
shouldn't  have  struck  him,  chile.  Cats  and 
dogs  fight  an'  sometimes  boys  do,  but  girls 
mussn't;  it  is  rough  an'  yo'  don't  like  rough 
people,  sholy!" 

"No,  1  don't  like  rough  people,  but  I  was 
so  mad  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"Yo'  muss  learn  to  help  it,  honey.  It  won't 
do  to  strike  folks  'cause  dey  say  disagreeable 
things.  When  folks  do  dey  soon  get  into  a 
right  smart  fight.  Den  dey  have  to  go  to  de 
police  station." 

This  last  remark  of  Judy's  alarmed  Tes- 
sina  so  much  that  she  looked  all  around  to 
see  if  a  policeman  were  near,  but  much  to  her 
relief  none  was  in  sight.  Then  she  said,  "Yo' 
got  mad  with  Caleb  that  day  he  followed  us 
154 


JUDY  GIVES  "SAGE"  ADVICE 

an'  he  didn't  say  anything  saucy  to  you  either, 
but  kept  saying  he  loved  you.  I  never  get 
mad  with  anyone  who  loves  me  'cept  its  you." 

"Well,  honey,  I  didn't  strike  him." 

"No,"  responded  Tessina,  "but  I  reckon 
you  would  if  you'd  got  much  madder." 

"I  wuz  mad,  sho'  'nough,  chile,  but  I  can't 
'splain  all  my  reasons  fo'  gettin'  mad  wid  him. 
Yo'  ain't  old  'nough  to  understand.  But  yo' 
got  mad  'cause  some  one  sarced  yo'.  Now  yo' 
muss'  learn  to  pay  no  'tention  to  what  folks 
say,  when  dey  talk  like  dey  got  no  sense.  Yo's 
no  niggah  an'  yo'  father  was  a  great  Italian 
singer  an'  yo'  can  be  proud  of  him,  'cause,  be- 
sides being  a  great  musician,  he  was  a  good 
man.  So  if  folks  say  foolish  things  agin,  yo' 
jes'  keep  quiet  an'  think  to  yo'self,  dey've  got 
no  sense,  dey  are  jes'  not  gwine  to  make  me 
mad.  Keep  good-natured,  chile;  yo'll  find 
plenty  of  people  to  lub  yo',  never  fear." 

"Do  you  think  that  God  is  angry  with  me 
for  what  I  did?"  asked  Tessina,  thoughtfully. 

"Bress  yo',  honey!  God  lubs  little  chillons 
an'  He  knows  mighty  well  dat  dey  can't  al- 
ways do  jes'  right.  He'll  pass  dis  over,  I 
s'pects,  but  it  'pears  like  I  wouldn't  do  sech 
thing  agin." 

155 


HEREFORD 

"I  jes'  don't  want  to  see  that  boy  agin," 
said  Tessina,  "but  I've  got  to  if  I  play  with 
the  girls.  What  shall  I  say  when  I  do?" 

"Pay  no  'tention,  I  tell  yo'.  Act  jes'  like 
nothin'  had  happened.  He  may  be  all  right 
now.  If  he  ain't  yo'  jes'  come  home  an'  play 
by  de  woodpile  and  have  nice  talks  wid  me. 
Yo'  can  have  de  coffee-mill,  an'  de  dish  pan  to 
sail  yo'  boat  in,  an'  I'll  make  no  fuss  about  it 
either.  So  never  mind,  chile ;  don'  let  dat  boy 
make  yo'  unhappy.  De  time  will  soon  pass  if 
he's  jes'  on  a  visit.  It  'pears  like  he  won't 
stay  much  longer,  then  yo'  can  play  wid  de 
girls  as  befo'." 

"All  right,  if  I  can  have  all  the  things  I 
want  by  the  woodpile  where  I  play  and  you 
will  talk  to  me  some  and  tell  me  nice  stories 
I'll  stay  at  home  to-morrow  and  next  day  for 
sho,"  said  Tessina,  with  rising  spirits. 

"'Pears  like  I  would,  honey,"  answered 
Judy,  "arfter  dat  yo'  may  bofe  forgit  about 
de  trouble  an'  git  along  better." 

"I  shan't  forget  it,  Judy,"  responded  the 
child.  "I'm  afraid  that  I  shall  always  feel 
jes'  as  I  do  toward  Aunt  Susan.  I  don't  love 
her  and  I  shan't  love  him,  but  I'll  try  to  be- 
have well  and  I  sholy  won't  strike  him  again 
156 


JUDY  GIVES  "SAGE"  ADVICE 

whatever  he  says  to  me." 

"Dat's  right,  chile;  don'  be  rude,  'cause  he 
is.  Jes'  teach  him  a  few  manners  if  he  done 
don'  know  any." 

By  this  time  Judy  had  done  her  errand  and 
they  were  on  their  way  home.  When  they 
had  nearly  reached  there  she  said :  "We  muss' 
hurry  now,  chile,  right  smart,  'cause  I'se 
gwine  to  broil  chicken  fo'  supper  and  stuff 
some  'taters,  besides  fixin'  some  dessert  of 
oranges  an'  bananas.  I  shall  be  late  sho' 
'nough,  if  I  don'  be  spry." 


157 
11 


XII 

Judy's  Presentiment.     Was  it  a  Ghost? 

ONE  morning  when  Hereford  went 
into  the  kitchen  he  found  Judy 
laboring  under  great  mental  ex- 
citement.  She  had  made  the  fire 
and  had  filled  the  tea  kettle  and 
then,  unable  longer  to  restrain  herself,  she 
yielded  to  her  intense  emotion.     She  was  roll- 
ing on  the  floor  with  hands  clasped,  exclaim- 
ing: "Lawd,  save  me!  hev  mercy  on  dis  yere 
niggah  if  I've  been  wid  a  ghost  or  de  devil; 
save  me,  good  Lawd!" 

After  Hereford  had  overcome  his  surprise, 
he  collected  his  thoughts  and  asked:  "What's 
the  matter,  Judy?" 

"Oh,  Marse  Houtman !  I  done  never  had 
sech  a  s'perience  in  all  my  life,"  she  answered, 
as  she  sat  up,  Turk  fashion,  and  rolled  her 
great  eyes  around  at  him.  "Somethin'  dread- 
ful is  gwine  to  happen.  I've  done  had  a  pre- 
sent'ment." 

"Oh,     nonsense!"     exclaimed     Hereford; 
"you've  had  a  bad  dream." 
159 


HEREFORD 

"Tain't  no  dream."  Do  yo'  think  I'm  a 
fool  niggah  an'  don'  know  a  dream  from  a 
present'ment  ?  I  tell  yo',  Marse  Houtman, 
I  ain't  been  'sleep  since  twelve  o'clock  last 
night.  I  forgot  to  draw  de  shade  an'  de 
moon  was  shinin'  in  my  room  so  bright  dat  I 
got  up  to  fix  de  shutter  to  keep  out  de  light. 
Jes'  den  de  clock  struck  twelve  an'  I  done 
turned  to  go  back  to  my  bed.  De  room  wuz 
den  almost  dark  an'  all  at  once  I  sec  a  white 
form  glide  across  de  room  without  makin' 
any  sound  of  footsteps,  an'  it  went  out  de 
dooh,  though  de  dooh  wuz  shet.  I  tried  to 
scream,  but  it  'peared  like  I  couldn't  say  a 
word.  Den  de  form  came  back  an'  stood  by 
de  dooh  an'  beckoned  fo'  me.  I  shet  my  eyes 
an'  fell  'pon  my  knees  an'  hid  my  face  in  de 
bed  clothes,  but  it  done  made  no  difference. 
I  see  it  jes'  de  same.  I  wuz  plum'  scared. 

Oh ,  den  it  led  de  way  through  de  dooh, 

'though  it  didn't  open,  an'  down  de  stairs  an' 
I  jes'  had  to  follow.  //  kep'  a  little  ahead  of 
me.  We  passed  houses  an'  railroad  stations. 
Once,  suh,  I  dodged  behind  a  buildin'  thinkin' 
dat  p'raps  I  could  hide ;  but,  golly !  it  wuz  no 
use,  fo'  it  came  back  to  whar'  I  wuz  standin' 
an'  beckoned  as  befo',  an'  I  could  see  plainer 
1 60 


JUDY'S  PRESENTIMENT 

than  ever  its  great  glassy  eyes.  Oh,  suh!  I 
wuz  awful  scared!  an'  said:  'Fo'  de  Lawd's 
sake,  go  on !  jes'  keep  as  far  off  from  me  as  yo' 
can,  an'  I'll  follow  fo'  sho.'  I  don'  see  what 
yo'  hav'  agin  me,'  I  said.  'What  ebber  yo' 
be,  a  draggin'  me  over  stones  an'  fences  dis 
yere  fashion,'  but  Lawd!  it  nebber  paid  no 
'tention  to  what  I  said,  no  mo'n  a  deef  an' 
dum'  man.  Agin  I  spoke  an'  said:  'My  feet 
is  sore,  I  done  can't  go  much  furder.  I'se  got 
corns  an'  bunions  on  dem.'  'I  ain't,  Marse 
Houtman,  she  said  confidentially.  'I  jes'  said 
so  to  see  if  the  ghost  wouldn't  have  a  little 
pity,  but  it  still  paid  no  'tention.  Den  pres'n'y 
I  stood  still." 

"Presently,   you   mean,"    corrected   Here- 
ford. 

"Yes,  I  said  so.  Pres'n'y  I  stood  still  to 
see  if  I  was  being  watched.  Well,  suh,  I  done 
soon  found  out,  fo'  it  jes'  turned  round  an' 
beckoned  to  me  an'  I  fell  down  from  fright 
an'  'haustion,  but  I  hollered  at  de  same  time, 
'I'm  coming!  I'm  coming!  go  ahead,  fo'  de 
Lawd's  sake;  if  my  feet  gin  out  I'll  roll  dar, 
only  jes'  hev  mercy  on  a  respectable  cullud 
pusson  an'  don'  turn  round  agin,  'cause  I 
'clar'  yo'  done  look  bad  enough  back  to !'  I 
161 


HEREFORD 

tell  yo',  suh,  I  had  my  'pinion  of  dat  yere 
critter,  but  thought  mebbe  I'd  better  not 
s'press  it.  I  thought  p'raps  it  wuz  de  time 
when  silence  is  golden.  Well,  we  passed  green 
fields  an'  forests  an'  didn't  rest  till  we  reached 
Hardwick's  home  in  Glenburg,  den  de  ghos' 
wuz  lost  among  de  trees  an'  bushes  an'  I  done 
see  it  no  more.  I  wuz  so  plum'  frightened  I 
wuz  gwine  to  wake  yo'  uns  up,  but  I  thought 
I'd  wait  till  mornin'  an'  it  'peared  like  dat 
mornin'  would  nebber  come." 

"It  was  all  a  dream,  Judy,"  insisted  Here- 
ford. "Just  a  nightmare,  probably  caused  by 
indigestion.  Get  up  and  get  our  breakfast 
and  you'll  feel  better." 

"Tain't  no  dream,"  answered  Judy.  "I 
done  tell  yo',  Marse  Houtman,  'tis  a  present'- 
ment!  Somethin'  is  gwine  to  happen  fo'  sho'. 
Tessina  shan't  go  out  ob  my  sight  dis  yere 
day,  nor  missus,  either,  if  I  can  help  it." 

By  this  time  Ruth  had  entered  the  room, 
and  the  story  was  again  related.  Ruth  was 
evidently  somewhat  impressed,  although  she 
endeavored  to  conceal  the  fact.  They  both 
forbade  Judy  speaking  of  it  to  Tessina,  and 
assured  her  that  she  would  feel  better  by  and 
by. 

162 


JUDY'S  PRESENTIMENT 

Hereford  came  home  at  noon  and  seemed 
to  feel  relieved  when  he  found  everything  as 
usual;  but  when  evening  came  with  more  leis- 
ure in  which  to  allow  the  imagination  full 
play  and  when  the  stars  of  the  southern  sky 
had  become  quite  invisible  in  the  glory  of  the 
moon,  whose  light  fell  upon  the  surroundings 
of  their  quiet  home  casting  weird  shadows; 
then  they  felt  that  their  peace  of  mind  had 
truly  been  disturbed. 

Hereford  went  out  to  invite  Mrs.  Bland 
to  come  in  to  pass  the  evening  with  them,  hop- 
ing that  general  conversation  might  turn  the 
current  of  their  thoughts  into  pleasant  chan- 
nels. After  she  left  they  retired  at  a  little 
later  hour  than  usual,  and  soon  sleep  came  to 
their  relief. 

As  nothing  unusual  occurred  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  they  soon  dismissed  the  troublesome 
thoughts.  On  the  evening  of  the  third  day, 
however,  a  letter  was  received  from  Luther, 
requesting  Hereford  to  come,  if  possible,  to 
Glenburg.  Something  had  happened.  Yes! 
Judy  was  right. 


163 


I 


XIII 

Sam's  Transgression 

happiness    which    had    made 
Sam's  home  life  so  beautiful  at 
length   departed.     A  day  came 
when    dark    clouds    of    anxiety 
hung  heavily  over  his  dwelling, 
leaving  their  traces  upon  the  fair  brow  of  the 
once  happy  wife. 

Just  outside  of  the  little  village  of  Pineboro 
there  lived  Tim  Crowley,  a  miserable,  unprin- 
cipled man.  There  had  once  been  some  trou- 
ble between  him  and  the  relatives  of  Sam's 
wife.  He  had  watched  with  a  jealous  eye 
Sam's  increasing  prosperity  and  determined 
sooner  or  later  to  get  him  in  his  power,  partly 
for  revenge,  partly  with  the  hope  of  gaining 
by  gambling  some  of  the  money  which  he 
knew  him  to  possess. 

Tim,  like  other  bad  men,  had  his  follow- 
ers. There  were  three  men  associated  with 
him  and  it  was  through  the  help  of  one  of 
these  that  he  finally  reached  his  victim.  When- 
ever this  man  met  Sam  at  the  village  he  greet- 
165 


HEREFORD 

ed  him  pleasantly  and  chatted  freely,  trying  to 
cultivate  an  intimacy.  Sam,  however,  remained 
reserved  and  did  not  give  him  much  encourage- 
ment, for  he  knew  the  man  was  intimate  with 
Tim  and  Tim  had  a  poor  reputation.  But, 
alas !  who  knows  what  unconscious  weaknesses 
hide  within  us  waiting  for  the  betraying  touch 
of  temptation !  So  an  evil  day  came  when 
Sam  was  off  his  guard  and  when  asked  by  this 
man  to  take  a  drink  Sam  yielded.  Then  Tim 
appeared  on  the  scene  and  more  drinks  fol- 
lowed and  Sam  went  home  in  a  semi-intoxi- 
cated condition. 

When  Sam  recovered  from  his  debauch  his 
wife  reproached  him  for  his  conduct.  He 
seemed  deeply  penitent  and  vowed  that  he 
would  never  drink  with  any  of  them  at  the 
village  again.  This  good  resolution  alas !  was 
soon  broken.  It  was  soon  evident  that  he  was 
also  gambling,  for  there  had  been  many  sales 
from  the  farm  of  late  from  which  his  wife 
had  received  no  money,  and  Sam  gradually 
grew  rough  and  uncouth  in  appearance.  The 
stock  on  the  farm  constantly  diminished,  and 
finally  little  was  left,  but  the  farm  itself.  For- 
tunately this  belonged  to  his  wife,  and  she 
firmly  declared  that  it  should  never  be  sold  to 
166 


SAM'S  TRANSGRESSION 

pay  his  gambling  debts. 

Her  friends  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  none 
more  so  than  Mrs.  Fairweather,  her  nearest 
neighbor.  She  saw  the  trouble  from  its  very 
beginning  and  with  distressed  mind  watched 
its  steady  growth.  She  made  it  a  point  to  try 
to  keep  Sam  away  from  his  evil  companions 
by  calling  evenings  to  play  a  friendly  game  of 
cards  with  him,  and  she  sought  in  many  ways 
to  divert  him. 

Sometimes  she  succeeded,  then  again  there 
were  times  when  he  became  restless  and  show- 
ed a  lack  of  interest  in  the  games.  Nothing 
could  satisfy  him  but  playing  for  stakes  and 
the  wild  excitement  attending  such  games. 

One  day  little  Willie,  their  beautiful  boy 
of  four  years,  was  taken  ill.  He  was  their 
only  child  and  was  very  lovable.  With  great 
solicitude  Sam  watched  by  his  bedside.  It  was 
a  sultry  day,  but  at  its  close  the  cooling 
breezes  swept  through  the  open  doors  and 
fanned  the  brow  of  the  little  patient. 

The  gray  twilight,  however,  brought  with 
it  a  feeling  of  loneliness  to  Willie.  He 
twined  his  arms  around  his  father's  neck  and 
said:  "Papa,  don't  leave  me  to-night.  It 
makes  mamma  cry  when  yo'  stay  so  long  at 
167 


HEREFORD 

the  village,  and  it  makes  me  'fraid  of  yo'  the 
next  day."  His  father  kissed  him  affection- 
ately and  promised  to  stay  at  home,  while  the 
tears  blinded  his  eyes.  A  few  days  later  Sam 
went  to  the  village  to  do  some  errands.  When 
he  left  his  wife  he  promised  her  that  he  would 
come  directly  home  as  soon  as  he  had  made 
his  purchases.  He  would  surely  have  kept  his 
word  if  he  had  been  left  to  himself,  but  be- 
fore he  finished  his  last  errand  he  met  Tim, 
his  evil  genius,  who  urged  him  to  drink  just  a 
glass  with  him,  but  Sam  stoutly  refused.  A 
little  more  urging,  however,  or  possibly  a 
taunt,  made  him  hesitate  until  finally  he  yield- 
ed. Before  he  realized  it  the  second  glass 
was  taken  and  then  he  was  in  the  power  of  the 
wicked  Tim  Crowley. 

The  daylight  faded  from  the  sky,  yet  Sam 
did  not  return  to  his  home.  Mrs.  Fairweather 
came  in  at  eight  o'clock  and  found  the  mother 
alone  with  her  child,  who  was  rapidly  grow- 
ing worse.  She  offered  to  stay  all  night  with 
them  and  this  offer  was  gladly  accepted,  for 
Mrs.  Hardwick  had  allowed  her  colored  ser- 
vant, Zeke,  to  go  home,  as  she  had  expected 
that  her  husband  would  return  at  any  mo- 
ment. 

168 


SAM'S  TRANSGRESSION 

Zeke  was  now  her  only  servant.  The  others 
had  been  dismissed  one  after  another,  for  she 
no  longer  had  the  means  to  pay  even  their 
modest  wages.  Zeke  had  promised  to  come 
early  in  the  morning.  The  time  seemed  long, 
for  it  was  not  yet  midnight.  At  length  Willie 
aroused  and  faintly  asked: 

"Has  papa  come  yet?" 

"No,  dear,"  replied  his  anxious  mother. 

"I  want  to  kiss  him  befo'  I  go  to  sleep," 
said  the  child,  "and  I'm  so  tired.  Ma,  I  wish 
he'd  come." 

After  this  remark  he  slept  again,  but  seem- 
ed often  to  be  disturbed  by  dreams,  until  at 
last  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

Still  Sam  came  not.  Again  Willie  aroused 
and  feebly  inquired  for  his  father,  but  again 
he  had  to  be  told  that  he  had  not  come. 

"Has  Zeke  come  to  make  the  fire?"  he  ask- 
ed. 

"No,  dear,"  answered  his  mother,  "it  is  not 
morning  yet." 

"Oh,  ma !  I  can't  wait  for  papa.  I  wanted 
so  much  to  kiss  him  befo'  I  went  to  sleep,  but 
he  is  so  late — so  late !"  he  repeated,  in  a  weak- 
er voice. 

"Sing  to  me,  mama,  a  hymn  they  sing  at 
169 


HEREFORD 

the  mission;  but  kiss  me  first,"  and  as  he 
spoke  he  grew  strangely  pale.  His  mother 
and  Mrs.  Fairweather  tried  to  sing  a  hymn, 
but  before  the  last  verse  had  ended,  Willie 
had  gone  to  the  land  where  there  is  "no  more 
night."  His  tired  spirit  passed  on  through 
the  mystic  gate  to  rest  in  the  arms  of  the  One 
who  "carries  the  lambs  in  His  bosom." 

Ah !  how  many  little  ones  there  are  who, 
missing  the  joys  of  childhood,  have  in  mercy 
been  taken  out  of  their  wretched  condition  I 

Their  tattered  garments  have  been  changed 
for  robes  of  dazzling  whiteness.  Never  again 
shall  they  feel  the  chilling  blast  of  winter,  for 
the  city  to  which  they  have  gone  needs  not  the 
sun,  because  it  is  aglow  with  the  brightness 
of  its  jasper  walls.  No  more  will  they  hunger 
for  bread,  yet  dreading  the  return  of  besotted 
parents.  Ah,  no  1  for  they  are  happy  before 
God's  shining  throne,  where  they  behold  His 
glory,  while  all  tears  are  wiped  from  their 
eyes. 

Sam  was  in  great  agony  of  mind  when  at 
last  he  returned  and  learned  of  his  little  son's 
death.  For  a  time  it  seemed  that  he  might 
forsake  the  habit  which  had  brought  him  so 
much  sorrow.  He  had  dearly  loved  his  child 
170 


SAM'S  TRANSGRESSION 

and  his  remorse  was  bitter,  to  bitter  to  endure, 
so  he  turned  again  to  drink,  trying  thus  to 
drown  his  misery.  In  doing  this  he  sank 
lower,  and  lower.  His  walk  became  unsteady, 
his  eyes  were  bleared,  his  skin  was  bleached, 
his  hands  trembled,  his  shoulders  became 
bent,  and  his  senses  were  benumbed.  Desola- 
tion was  on  the  cold  hearthstone,  where  once 
a  happy  little  child  had  sat.  Sad  and  faded 
was  the  wife  who  had  once  been  so  happy 
before  their  domestic  joy  was  turned  to  sor- 
row. 

An  uncle  of  Sam's  unfortunate  wife  ad- 
vised her  to  sell  her  farm  and  leave  her  brutal 
husband  and  make  her  home  with  him.  She 
threatened  Sam  with  this  plan  one  day,  after 
the  effect  of  drink  had  subsided  and  he  was  in 
a  normal  condition  of  mind.  He  answered 
that  he  did  not  blame  her,  but  that  she  should 
not  on  his  account  be  forced  to  leave  her  old 
homestead.  He  himself  would  leave  instead. 
"If  I  go  away  from  this  town,"  he  said,  "I'll 
get  rid  of  Tim  Crowley  an'  that  crowd  an' 
p'raps  I  can  stop  drinkin'  an'  gamblin'.  I'll 
try  mighty  hard  fo'  yo'  sake,  an'  if  I  git  to  be 
a  man  agin,  I'll  come  back  an'  work  fo'  yo' 
like  I  used  to;  I  sholy  will!" 
171 


HEREFORD 

His  wife  was  deeply  moved  by  these  words, 
but  she  made  no  reply,  for  she  knew  that  the 
only  hope  of  her  husband's  reform  was  for 
him  to  get  away  from  Tim  Crowley's  influ- 
ence. Although  nothing  more  was  said,  hope 
sprang  up  in  both  their  hearts. 

Shortly  after  this  Sam  was  missing.  He 
saddled  his  riding-horse  and  left  without  a 
word.  Later  it  was  learned  that  he  took  up 
his  abode  with  an  uncle  who  was  a  moon- 
shiner and  lived  just  across  the  line  in  the 
Tennessee  mountains. 

This  uncle's  cabin  was  situated  at  least  four 
miles  from  the  highway.  The  road  to  it  was 
rough  and  hilly,  scarcely  more  than  a  bridle- 
path. A  wagon  seldom  went  over  it,  as  it  was 
used  only  by  this  family.  There  were  deep 
forests  on  the  right  stretching  along  to  an  in- 
definite distance.  On  the  left  was  stony 
wasteland  intermingled  with  tillage  ground 
mostly  cornfields.  Half  a  mile  back  of  the 
cabin  was  a  deep  hollow,  where  stood  a  high 
shelving  rock  covered  with  vines  and  tangle- 
wood.  Near  the  base  of  this  rock  there  had 
been  excavated  a  subterranean  passage,  and 
beyond  that  had  been  hollowed  out  a  small 
cave.  It  made  a  spot  so  secluded  that  it  was 
172 


SAM'S  TRANSGRESSION 

most  favorable  for  the  working  of  the  "illicit 
still." 

There  were  three  sons  engaged  with  the 
father  in  this  business,  and  now  Sam  had  join- 
ed them.  He  had  not  been  there  many  weeks 
when  they  were  surprised  by  a  small  force  of 
revenue  agents.  The  moonshiners  had  been 
warned  by  the  women  folks,  who  had  seen 
the  officers  pass  the  house  in  the  twilight,  and 
thought  probably  that  they  had  spotted  them 
and  were  hunting  for  their  "still."  The 
daughter  of  the  family  was  sent  as  a  messen- 
ger; she  was  about  ten  years  of  age  and  as 
fleet  of  foot  as  an  Indian  and  knew  how  to 
hide  at  the  faintest  sound,  and  when  to  ven- 
ture again  on  her  way.  She  reached  the  "still" 
and  none  had  seen  her  on  her  way.  After  the 
men  learned  that  a  search  was  in  progress  so 
near  them  they  immediately  closed  the  place 
and  left.  They  took  to  the  edge  of  the  forest 
but  kept  some  distance  apart,  and  there  they 
waited  like  sentinels,  watching  and  listening 
for  any  approach  of  the  officers.  More  than 
two  hours  passed  and  all  was  still.  The  moon 
was  shining,  but  a  dense  cloud  covered  its  disc 
so  the  light  was  dim.  At  last  they  heard  the 
tramp  of  horses'  feet  and  presently  saw  men 


HEREFORD 

alight  and  tie  their  animals  to  trees.  After 
that  a  close  search  began.  They  peered  into 
every  nook  and  seemingly  possible  place  for  a 
"still."  At  length  they  were  in  front  of  the 
rock.  The  mountaineers,  seeing  this,  rushed 
forward  with  one  impulse  to  the  spot  to  pro- 
tect their  property. 

The  eldest  son  reached  the  spot  first,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others.  The  government  agents 
turned  upon  them  and  held  them  up  with 
revolvers,  the  leader  saying:  "Have  a  care 
there,  your  next  step  may  be  fatal."  At  that 
moment  the  youngest  son,  who  was  standing 
behind  the  others,  with  the  impulsiveness  of 
youth,  fired  at  them,  but  intervening  trees  de- 
flected the  course  of  the  bullet.  Then  the 
officers  fired  and  Sam  was  shot  through  the 
heart  and  instantly  killed. 

After  the  mountaineer  fell  the  officers  saw 
that  a  desperate  fight  would  be  inevitable  if 
they  stayed,  and  as  they  had  no  proof  yet  that 
there  was  a  "still"  there,  they  mounted  their 
horses  and  galloped  away. 

The  cloud  that  had  covered  the  moon 
broke  into  fragments  and  vanished,  and  a  sil- 
very light  fell  upon  the  pale,  upturned  face  of 
Sam  Hardwick. 


SAM'S  TRANSGRESSION 

The  whippoorwills  in  complaining  tones 
called  to  one  another  as  if  disturbed  by  this 
act  of  man's  inhumanity  to  man. 

God  may  keep  a  record  of  the  number  of 
these  mountaineers  killed  by  the  United  States 
officers,  but  they  are  not  enumerated  by  man. 
Does  some  one  ask:  "Is  it  right  to  sympathize 
with  persons  engaged  in  an  unlawful  pur- 
suit?" 

The  sentiments  which  have  been  expressed 
have  not  been  put  forward  to  justify  the  deeds 
of  the  moonshiners,  but  as  a  plea  for  a  meth- 
od better  than  one  of  brute  force  for  dealing 
with  these  much  maligned,  misunderstood 
people. 

For  upwards  of  forty  years  the  govern- 
ment officers  have  been  raiding  the  moonshin- 
•ers,  who,  whenever  they  are  captured,  are 
taken  as  prisoners  to  the  nearest  court.  What 
has  been  accomplished?  Where  they  have 
destroyed  one  "still,"  two  or  three  others 
have  often  sprung  up  to  take  its  place. 

This  aggressive  method  has  taught  these 
people  to  dread  and  to  hate  the  revenue 
agents  and  the  laws.  Surely  we  cannot  won- 
der that  they  do,  although  such  a  result  is  cer- 
tainly most  lamentable. 
175 


HEREFORD 

The  mountaineers  have  always  been  loyal 
to  the  country  and  have  fought  for  its  defence 
in  all  our  wars.  They  sent  140,000  men  into 
the  Union  army,  being  several  thousand  more 
than  were  sent  by  the  states  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, Vermont  and  Connecticut  combined. 
Shall  these  people  be  neglected  and  forgot- 
ten? Have  they  not  a  claim  upon  our  sym- 
pathy and  our  interest,  these  men,  our  "Amer- 
ican Highlanders?" 

The  mountain  school,  however,  is  destined 
to  accomplish  what  the  revenue  agents  have 
failed  to  do.  In  communities  where  acade- 
mies are  established  a  prohibition  temperance 
reform  sooner  or  later  follows,  so  keen  are 
the  mountain  people  to  respond  to  good  lead- 
ership. If  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  rising 
generation  are  educated,  they  will  constitute 
a  strong  force  for  the  uplifting  of  humanity. 
This  has  already  been  happily  proven  by  more 
than  a  score  of  shining  lights  who  have  been 
discovered  and  developed  by  the  mountain 
schools,  whose  hundreds  of  other  pupils  also 
are  now  following  professional  careers. 

The  old  American  blood  of  New  England 
and  other  parts  of  the  country  is  fast  dying 
out.  So  the  perpetuation  of  American  ideals 
176 


SAM'S  TRANSGRESSION 

in  religion,  politics  and  social  life  far  on  in 
the  future  will  largely  depend  on  these  moun- 
tain people,  for  the  foreigners  who  are  filling 
every  other  part  of  our  country  do  not  mi- 
grate to  the  mountains,  consequently  the 
blood  there  will  remain  pure  and  unmixed.  It 
seems  as  if  this  thought  alone  should  warm 
our  hearts  toward  the  mountaineers  and  help 
us  to  wait  with  patience  for  the  development 
of  the  seed  that  is  being  sown  by  the  mission 
schools. 

It  may  take  fifty  years;  it  may  take  a  hun- 
dred, but  these  mountaineers  must  ultimately 
evolve  into  a  mighty  people,  who  will  love 
and  protect  the  things  we  so  proudly  cherish. 


177, 


XIV 

Sad  Tidings 

WHEN  the  news  of  Sam's   fate 
reached  Glenburg  the  parents 
were    prostrated.      The   poor 
wife    also    grieved,    for    she 
loved  her  husband,  despite  his 
bad  habits.     The  new  hope,  too,  which  had 
sprung  up  in  her  heart  with  his  words,  "If  I 
git  to  be  a  man  agin  I'll  come  back  an'  work 
fo'  yo'  like  I  used  to,  I  sholy  will!"  she  had 
carried  in  her  thoughts  day  and  night.     Now 
this  hope  was  dead,  and  she  stood  alone. 

When  Hereford  had  learned  the  contents 
of  Luther's  letter  he  arranged  to  go  to  Glen- 
burg  at  once.  On  arriving  there  he  found 
Mr.  Hardwick  broken  in  spirit  and  almost 
crushed  by  grief.  When  he  saw  who  had 
come  to  see  him  he  cried :  "O,  Sam !  my  po', 
po'  boy."  And  he  wrung  his  great,  strong 
hands  in  anguish. 

Hereford  said  but  little,  but  his  noble 
presence  was  a  help  and  comfort  to  these  sor- 
row-stricken people. 

179 


HEREFORD 

Hereford  remained  a  few  days  with  the 
Hathorns.  They  drove  about  and  tried  to 
interest  themselves,  but  Sam's  fate  was  ever 
uppermost  in  their  minds.  On  the  morning 
of  the  day  Hereford  left  he  walked  down  to 
the  Hardwick  home  again.  Sweet  was  the 
air,  and  bright  the  sunshine,  which  not  only 
brings  back  light,  but  hope  and  inspiration  to 
the  world.  It  shone  now  in  all  its  glory  upon 
the  Hardwick  place.  It  peered  through  the 
window  pane  and  crept  along  the  cabin  floor 
as  if  sent  with  a  message  to  cheer  the  hearts 
of  the  bereaved  ones,  but  its  rays  were  not 
heeded  by  the  inmates.  The  darkness  of  sor- 
row which  encircled  them  was  too  dense  for 
even  the  sun's  rays  to  penetrate.  Time  alone 
could  help  to  soften  their  grief  and  make 
bright  their  clouded  skies. 


1 80 


XV 

Tessina  Goes  to  School 

WITH  the  swift  passing  of  an- 
other   year    Tessina    reached 
that  very  important  epoch  in 
her   life   when   she   was   old 
enough  to  enter  school.  Here- 
ford and  Ruth  rather  dreaded  to  have  her  be- 
gin, for  they  feared  that  she  would  often  have 
trouble  because  of  her  impulsive  disposition. 
They  often  talked  of  her  future  and  won- 
dered what  it  would  be.    Was  she  destined  to 
become  a  great  artist  ?    She  possessed  a  sweet 
little  voice  and  a  great  love  for  music,  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  she  had  an  inborn  gift. 
Ruth  hesitated  over  the  thought  of  an  oper- 
atic career  for  her  daughter,  for  she  realized 
that  there  was  an  unpleasant  side,  as  well  as  a 
pleasant  one,  to  such  a  life;  her  dearest  am- 
bition would  be  to  have  her  child  engaged  in 
church  and  concert  work,  should  she  prove 
able. 

Hereford  now  had  an  ample  income.     A 
new  business  proposition  had  opened  the  way 
181 


HEREFORD 

for  him  to  prosperity.  An  opportunity  to 
purchase  an  interest  in  a  well-established  gro- 
cery store  presented  itself  and  with  consider- 
able effort  he  raised  the  capital  necessary  for 
him  to  engage  in  his  new  enterprise. 

Like  many  others  he  had  had  his  early 
dreams,  which  were  followed  by  a  harsh 
awakening.  It  was,  therefore,  a  great  satis- 
faction to  him  to  return  at  last  to  the  sub- 
stantial business  with  which  he  was  so  fa- 
miliar when  a  boy.  He  realized  that  he  was 
best  fitted  for  it.  It  was  far  more  remunera- 
tive, too,  and  that  was  an  important  consider- 
ation, because  of  his  increasing  family  ex- 
penses. Being  associated  more  intimately  with 
business  men  he  gained  new  friends  and  was 
soon  called  upon  to  fill  positions  of  public 
trust.  His  education  proved  useful  to  him, 
and  was  always  a  source  of  pleasure.  So  he 
was  ever  grateful  to  the  missionary  who  once 
sought  shelter  at  his  father's  house,  and  for 
his  influence  in  securing  for  him  an  oppor- 
tunity for  self-improvement,  which  had  led  to 
such  a  broadening  of  his  whole  life. 

Ruth  retained  her  interest  in  music,  al- 
though she  was  no  longer  engaged  in  teach- 
ing. She  was  still  a  soloist  in  the  same 
182 


TESSINA  GOES  TO  SCHOOL 

church  where  Hereford  had  first  heard  her 
sing.  Her  songs  continued  to  cheer  and  com- 
fort the  people,  lifting  the  weary  and  soul- 
tried  to  the  very  gates  of  Paradise,  as  noth- 
ing but  the  grand  songs  of  the  masters  can  do, 
or  the  beautiful  sacred  solos  of  the  day  when 
rendered  by  a  sweet  and  sympathetic  voice. 

Ruth  also  retained  her  loving  interest  in 
Glenwood,  where  she  could  live  over  again 
the  old  days  when  she  gathered  the  galax  and 
plucked  the  flowers  as  they  drank  from  the 
mountain  brook.  She  rejoiced,  too,  in  the 
happiness  which  education  had  brought  into 
her  life.  Hereford,  too,  rejoiced  that  he 
once  encouraged  this  mountain  maid  to  aspire 
to  a  wider  field  in  life  and  congratulated  him- 
self upon  the  fact  that  his  work  among  the 
mountaineers  had  not  been  in  vain. 


183 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


•no.is  r 


REC'D  LD-URL 
JUL  171996 


-f 

-  Q  *j  o 

«J  i  o 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL. LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  038  505    4 


